


The Drifter

by Anonymous



Category: American Assassin - Vince Flynn, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-11-30 08:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 80,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11459697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Stiles grew up much differently, outside of Beacon Hills.





	1. March 2010

Stiles ran his fingers through his hair and glanced over his shoulder, then tore open a box of Pop Tarts and stuck one of the foil packets into the sleeve of his plaid overshirt. He walked back through the store and outside, looking around for a place to sit and eat the breakfast he had stolen for himself.

“I saw that, you know.” Caitlyn piped up behind him, looking amused. “Not very subtle, kid.”

Stiles turned toward her. “I don’t really believe in being subtle. I figure if somebody stopped me, what the hell would they even do? Arrest me? And then they’ve got to feed me at least three meals. Sucks for them.”

“Fair enough.” Caitlyn replied, inclining her head. “So what’s your deal? Why are you only snagging one pack of Pop Tarts instead of a whole box load?”

“It just seemed easier.” Stiles shrugged. “Want one?”

Caitlyn shook her head, but smiled at him. “Nah. They’re all yours, sweetie.” She sat down beside him, though.

Stiles tore the foil packet open and bit into one of the Pop Tarts, leaning back against the bench. “I don’t plan on hanging around here too long, anyway.”

“Yeah? Why not?” Caitlyn looked up and down the street. “It’s a shitty little place, sometimes, but not terrible. Not all the time, anyway.”

“Small towns have small town cops.” Stiles muttered. “Nobody’s willing to look the other way in a place like this. And much as I don’t really give a shit about getting arrested, that doesn’t mean I want to be hassled.”

“True. Again.” Caitlyn shrugged. “So I’m gonna ask you again - what’s your deal? Why are you here? How’d you end up here?”

Stiles grinned at her. “I have to have a ‘deal’ to be here? I can’t just be some guy that’s wandering through?” He paused, thinking. “I’m just traveling. I got a ride from this guy in Redding. He stopped here for gas and I figured this was far enough, for now. I’ll finish these and figure out what I’m doing next, and leave.”

“How old are you, anyway?” Caitlyn asked him abruptly, studying him with narrowed eyes.

“Seventeen.” Stiles smiled, lying. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.” Caitlyn replied, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. She squinted at him. “How come you’re alone?” She asked finally, her voice quiet.

“Let’s just say I got myself into a bad situation and there was only one way out of it.” Stiles muttered. “Are we done playing twenty questions now, town girl? Can I eat my fucking breakfast?”

Caitlyn grinned at him suddenly. “We’re far from done, but go ahead and snack, baby-cheeks.” She reached out to pat said cheek.

Stiles turned his head and nipped at her fingers, but not in a malicious way. “What are you, a cop?”

“Cheeky. Maybe I am.” Caitlyn drawled. “What are you gonna do if I am?”

“Nothing.” Stiles laughed. “What the hell could I do? You saw me take the food, you could just arrest me for shoplifting.”

“I could, but I feel like there’d be no fun in that.” Caitlyn told him “Especially with that pilfered food. A stolen Pop-Tart is worth a couple of nights in the pokey.”

“Two nights in jail out here in Mayberry for one pastry, huh?” Stiles snorted. “Okay, you’d better cuff me then, Officer.”

“Nah. I’ll let you off with a warning.” Caitlyn laughed. “Better eat up.” She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder, patting it in amusement.

“Okay.” Stiles shrugged and finished eating. He glanced at the gas station across the street, eyeing the semi truck that had just pulled in and wondering if he could convince the guy to let him ride along for a little while. With some luck, he could be in San Francisco in time for dinner and he would have a better shot at finding somewhere that cops wouldn’t bother him. He rubbed his eye, fighting back a yawn as he exhaled through his nose. He had been traveling for a few months, ever since he ran from his foster dad. At fifteen, Stiles didn’t feel like dealing with the fucked up system anymore and decided he would save himself the trouble and figure it out by himself. He had kept an eye on amber alerts, but nobody reported him missing. He figured the asshole was still collecting money and hadn’t seen a need to put an end to that.

Caitlyn watched him silently. “You look like you’re five seconds from bolting. Whatcha thinking?”

“I’m thinking that if I get across the street right now, I can be in Seattle by tonight.” Stiles lied, smiling faintly. “And that you can’t arrest me or that driver for hitchhiking because he’s my uncle.”

Caitlyn snorted. “Wait, did you really believe that I was a cop? That’s freaking awesome. You’re adorable.” She grinned at him. “And no way in hell is that dude your uncle. He looks a little like he might want to spank you and have you call him ‘Daddy’ though.”

“You’d be surprised at what an actual cop looks like.” Stiles muttered. “And maybe with some luck, you’re right about that guy.” He nodded toward the driver, then stood up. “Well, nice meeting you.” He smiled. “Hey, you know that impersonating a cop is a crime, right?”

Caitlyn grinned, shrugging. “Technically, I didn’t impersonate anyone. I suggested, and you assumed.” She winked at him. “Nice meeting you, too, kid. Maybe I’ll see you around again.”

“Probably not, though.” Stiles admitted. “But yeah. Bye.” He ran across the street, to the driver of the semi truck. “Hey, where are you headed?”

The driver peered down at Stiles, raising an eyebrow. “How much you got?” He asked.

“I’m broke.” Stiles admitted. “But we could work something out? If you’re going where I want to go, anyway.”

“I’m heading north. Toward Spokane.” The driver eyed Stiles lingeringly. “What sort of payment are you expecting to give me?”

“You’re not going where I want to go.” Stiles shook his head. “So nevermind, I guess.”

“Where do you want to go?” The driver frowned.

“South. San Francisco, maybe? But anywhere south of here would be fine. If you can’t drive me, I’ll just have to start walking.” Stiles shrugged. “Okay, so... thanks anyway.”

The trucker grunted and nodded across the lot to another driver. “Big guy over there is headed toward Palo Alto.” He revealed. “If you run, you might get to him before he takes off.”

Stiles turned and ran across the gas station lot, skidding to a stop in front of the other truck, his hands braced on the grill to stop himself from slamming into the vehicle.

“Jesus christ!” The man behind the wheel blurted, sticking his head out of the window. He climbed out of the truck and slammed the door shut behind him, looking furious. “Are you out of your mind? What if there’d been moving cars?! Are you nuts, or just looking to die?”

“Maybe both?” Stiles smiled. “I’m not looking for a guidance counselor, I just need a ride out of town. I can’t afford to pay you, but we can figure out something else? If you don’t agree to drive me, you’re subjecting me to walking across California. Or at least part of it.”

The man pursed his lips together tightly, scowling at Stiles. “How lucky that I’ve already discovered that you’re suicidal.” He muttered, looking angry with himself. “Well. I can’t… I wouldn’t - goddammit. I wouldn’t feel right letting you walk now.” He paused, and then shook his head. “Fine. Get in the cab.”

Stiles grinned and got in the passenger side of the truck. “Thanks.” He glanced out the window, already planning what he would do when he got to a city.

“Don’t mention it.” The man sighed, climbing back into the driver’s side. “By the way, which sick bastard sent you flying over here in the first place? And what’s your name? I’m not calling you ‘kid’ all the way down.”

“The guy going to Spokane said you were heading to Palo Alto.” Stiles admitted. “And you can call me whatever you want, so long as I get to go there with you.”

The driver was silent for a moment, putting the truck into gear before honking the horn and pulling out of the lot. He didn’t glance at the teenager sitting beside him. “I’m Derek.” He murmured.

“Nice to meet you, Derek.” Stiles nodded. “How far is Palo Alto from here, anyway?”

“‘Bout five hours southwest. Almost three hundred miles.” Derek replied, glancing at the younger man.

“Okay.” Stiles knew that going to sleep was a bad idea, but the truck seat was comfortable and his eyes started to close involuntarily.

Derek didn’t make a comment when he glanced over a few minutes later and saw the teen’s eyes close. He shook his head and sighed, cursing softly to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why do you look like you’re about to laugh at me?” Stiles sat down and started eating another slice of pizza.
> 
> “I guess because you’re probably one of the first people that’s made me laugh in a while.” Derek told him, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains underage sex.

Stiles woke up a couple of hours later, sitting straight up in his seat. “Shit! Sorry.” He blurted, glancing at Derek. He ran his fingers through his hair again and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, taking a deep breath in and trying to wake up a little more.

“It’s fine.” Derek murmured. “You’re a surprisingly quiet sleeper, despite how fitfully you sleep.”

Stiles stared at Derek for a long moment. “Okay.” He shrugged. “Well, anyway. Thanks for this. And for not messing with me or killing me.” He snorted. “I guess I owe you, yeah? I’ll figure out something. I mean, if you want, I could...” He trailed off. This was the point in time when someone filled in the blanks on their own and told him what they wanted.

Derek frowned and looked at his unnamed companion. “You could what?” He asked, looking bewildered.

“Um, you know... suck you off? Let you fuck me?” Stiles ventured. “Something like that.”

Looking horrified, Derek jerked his head to stare at his passenger. “I wouldn’t ask that. Maybe the other drivers would, but I wouldn’t. I just want to make sure you don’t jump in front of a damn car again.”

“Seriously?” Stiles smiled faintly. “Because like I said, I can’t pay you. Nobody does anything for free.”

Derek exhaled slowly. “Well, I do. Just… I - stare out the window or play with the radio, I don’t care.”

“You’re not married. Are you dating someone? Or maybe it’s that you don’t like guys. I shouldn’t have just assumed, I guess.” Stiles mused. “Sorry.”

Derek shook his head. “I like guys just fine. I don’t extort sexual favors from someone I don’t know who’s just looking to get from point A to point B.”

“Okay.” Stiles repeated, shrugging again. He sat back against the seat, thinking about his mom and wondering what she would be doing now, if she was alive. He didn’t normally let his thoughts get so morbid, but he didn’t have anything to distract himself with. “So, where are you from, anyway?”

Derek glanced at him briefly. “We just left it.” He murmured. “That’s my hometown. Rarely get to visit anymore, I’m always driving.”

“So you’re from Beacon Falls? Do you like small towns, then?” Stiles turned a little toward Derek.

“I’d rather be there.” Derek replied, nodding thoughtfully. “I know most people look at small towns, and practically chomp at the bit to get away from them, but… It’s my home. And my parents both still live there.”

“That’s kind of sweet.” Stiles hoped he didn’t sound bitter or jealous, then decided he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to know Derek any longer than it took for him to get to Palo Alto, anyway. “So why don’t you just find a job in that town and stay there?”

“I have. This one pays more.” Derek admitted. “And… well, it’s nice to get to travel.”

“Yeah, but you’re not really traveling, you’re just driving and unloading shit.” Stiles pointed out. “It’s not like you get to see much of anything. Just roads and more roads.”

Derek grinned faintly. “No one else knows that. My sister gets to hear all about how I just drove by the Grand Canyon, and passed Yellowstone.”

“I was there for a little while.” Stiles murmured. “Pretty much just long enough to hike through and snag a seat on a tour bus out of there.”

“That worked out nicely.” Derek murmured. He glanced up at Stiles. “So is there an actual reason why you seem to be running?”

“Yeah, the French call it ennui.” Stiles snorted. “I’m fucking bored. That’s all.”

“Okay.” Was all Derek said in reply. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.” Stiles laughed. “I told you before, Derek. I don’t need a guidance counselor. You won’t let me suck your dick, I just want to get out of the truck when you get to Palo Alto. That’s it.”

“Alright.” Derek said, looking at Stiles briefly. “I can do that.”

“Have you been out here before? To Palo Alto, I mean?”

“Several times.” Derek replied, nodding. “It’s a pretty frequent trip, and I drive all over California.”

“So you can probably tell me where an all-night diner is, then?” Stiles smiled. “Maybe one with bad enough service that nobody will give a shit if I disappear without paying?”

Derek didn’t say anything at first, continuing to drive silently for a few minutes before he nodded. “Yeah, I suppose I could do that.”

“Thanks.” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, if you give me your address, I can mail you something. Whenever I get actual money. You’ve been pretty awesome about all of this.”

Derek smiled faintly. “My good deed for the night.” He replied. “I’ll see what I can do, once we stop.”

Stiles nodded, giving Derek a silent once-over. He was actually a little upset that Derek wasn’t interested in the payment that Stiles had suggested; the guy was hot.

Derek kept his eyes forward, well aware of Stiles’ eyes on him. After a moment, his eyes traveled over to the younger man. “What?” He asked quietly.

“What if we do something that isn’t just meant as a payment or thank you?” Stiles suggested. “I know it’s a long shot, since I figure I at least owe you for half the cost of the gas it’s going to take to get to the city, but you could rent a room for a night. Let me sleep there, even if you don’t. We could have a little fun before you have to head back, either way.”

Derek let his eyes dart between Stiles and the road. When it was put like that, Derek found he was a lot more tempted. He didn’t like the idea of taking sex from someone as payment for services rendered. But if they were simply… sleeping with each other for the sake of sleeping with each other, Derek didn’t feel quite as guilty. He cleared his throat. “That… We could do that.” He agreed, and nodded slowly.

Stiles grinned. “Good.”

“Okay.” Derek said, glancing at Stiles once more before he focused his eyes on the road once more. “Get some rest, if you want. It’ll be a while before I stop.”

Stiles nodded and settled back, falling back asleep a moment later.

Derek drove until he finally couldn’t anymore, and he lightly patted Stiles’ leg, hours later, to wake him up. “Hey. Up you go. I’m parking and then finding a room.”

“Mm. Okay.” Stiles smiled and leaned toward Derek, kissing him and laughing as he unfastened his seatbelt. He got out, stretching his arms and legs as he tried to wake up a little more. He realized that he still hadn’t even told Derek his name, and it bothered him a little - but not enough to correct that error. If Derek never asked, he would just never say. There was something appealing about it, like Stiles could always remain ‘that guy, that one time,’ in Derek’s mind. He smiled to himself.

Derek watched Stiles intently, swallowing a little roughly as a sliver of skin appeared from under the younger man’s shirt, before shaking his head furiously and moving toward the motel. There was a part of him that was railing against what he was going to do - with someone whose name he didn't even know - but there was a bigger part that was encouraging him, reminding him that he never put himself out there and never took chances. He stared at the receptionist mutely before saying quietly, “One room, please.”

The clerk smiled knowingly and slid two room keys toward Derek, not taking his hand off of them as he spoke. “Sixty a night.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at the man, pressing his lips together tightly before tugging his wallet out of his pocket and slapping three twenties down on the counter. “One night.”

“Okay.” The man took the money from Derek and smiled. “But if you come back to pay for a second night, I’m not going to be all that surprised.”

“Yeah, okay.” Derek muttered, grabbing the keys away from the clerk with a frown. He stepped away carefully, and then looked around for Stiles before moving toward him. He put a gentle hand on Stiles’ back, leading him in the direction of their now-shared room. “Come on.” He murmured, and hesitated before leaning forward to kiss him lightly.

Stiles grinned at Derek and took one of the keys, unlocking the door. The room smelled like someone had used an entire can of deodorizer, but he didn’t care too much about that. It was a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in, for at least one night. He pulled his shirt off over his head and let it drop to the floor.

Derek watched Stiles intently, locking the door behind them and tugging his own shirt off unhurriedly before taking a few steps toward Stiles.

Stiles smiled at Derek and leaned in for another kiss, resting a hand on Derek’s waist.

Derek exhaled softly and pressed closer to Stiles, his own hand moving to the younger man’s hip. He squeezed tightly, dipping his fingers below Stiles’ waistband.

Stiles grinned against Derek’s mouth, laughing a little. “Ticklish.” He murmured in explanation.

Derek’s lips quirked upward, and he nipped lightly at Stiles’ lips, dragging his fingers along Stiles’ skin once more before maneuvering the younger man toward the bed. “Ticklish anywhere else?”

“I guess you’ll find out.” Stiles laid down, unfastening his jeans.

Derek leaned over Stiles, tugging at Stiles’ jeans and lowering them before dragging the other man’s hands to the fly of his own jeans. His fingers slipped down Stiles’ hip, stroking up and down slowly before he wrapped his fist around Stiles’ erection and stroked once.

Stiles groaned, hurriedly unfastening Derek’s jeans and pushing the denim down, off of his hips.

Derek let out a low laugh, nipping lightly at Stiles’ neck and trailing his lips over his chest as he maneuvered his way between Stiles’ thighs. His hand tightened carefully around him, and he stroked down once, firmly, before repeating the motion again, his hips accompanying the motion by rolling against him.

Stiles thrust up against Derek. He let himself get lost in the movements, his mind wandering after a moment as he thought about what he would do next. He didn’t have a particular end destination in mind, he just wanted to keep moving and stay away from anyone that might have too many questions.

Derek pressed his lips to Stiles’ throat, biting down lightly as he pushed Stiles’ legs apart. Tilting the other man’s hips up, Derek gently slid his fingers inside of him, thrusting them steadily. This wasn’t something he did regularly, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least make sure that the young man he was with had a good time.

Stiles’ lips parted as he stared up at Derek, breathing heavily. He licked his lips, not wanting to say anything more than what he had to, from this point forward.

Derek studied Stiles’ face, lowering his head to kiss Stiles once more and shifting until he was positioned to press inside the younger man. He did so in one move, burying himself inside Stiles’ heat with a low moan.

Stiles gripped the sheets underneath him, turning his head to kiss Derek again.

Derek groaned. “You feel amazing.” He said against Stiles’ mouth. “Warm, tight. God, you feel good.” He thrust into Stiles again.

“Yeah? I like how you’re filling me up.” Stiles lifted one hand to rest on Derek’s back, not sure if that was allowed in this situation.

Derek grinned fiercely, slipping one arm around Stiles’ waist and tugging him closer. “Wasn’t expecting this, when you… I should’ve taken you up on this from the start.”

“Well, that was four or five hours ago.” Stiles smiled. “How much did this room cost, anyway?”

“Sixty for the night.” Derek pushed closer, looking at Stiles curiously. “... why? Did you want to stay another night?” The words that the clerk had spouted at him returned to his mind, and his eyes widened slightly.

“I think so.” Stiles murmured. “But I’ll have to find a way to scrape that together tomorrow. You have deliveries to make, right? What’s on your truck?”

“Dry goods, mostly.” Derek replied. He hesitated, then said, “I could call my district warehouse and tell them I got a blown-out tire or something, and that it might take a day for them to find a replacement. I don’t mind paying for another night.”

Stiles shook his head. “Nah. I mean, this is good, but... no.” He still hadn’t even told the older man his name and felt safer for it. He doubted that Derek would hurt him, but he didn’t want anyone getting attached and tracking him.

Derek hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. But at least let me pay for the room for you.” He ground down against Stiles. “Please.”

“One night, then.” Stiles agreed. He would have to scrounge up about a hundred dollars to pay Derek back, but he would figure it out.

Derek smiled faintly. “Okay.” He murmured. “I’ll go down and pay after this.”

Stiles grinned and kissed Derek, rubbing his back.

Derek kissed him back, laughing quietly against Stiles’ mouth. “What can I call you?” He asked quietly. “You don’t have to give me your real name. Or nickname. Or anything important, for all I care, you can tell me to call you Batman.”

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, call me Batman. I like that.”

Derek grinned at him, drawing him into another kiss. “Yeah, Batman.” He growled, his voice trembling from laughter. “Fuck me, Dark Knight.”

Stiles burst out laughing, but he gave Derek a small smile. “Is that what you really want?”

“Would you do it?” Derek asked him, raising an eyebrow. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s… you know. Let me be the receiver.”

“Derek, I’d fuck you hard enough that you would forget your own name.” Stiles nodded. “Let me up. Lay down.”

Derek pulled out of Stiles, turning onto his back and stretching out before he looked up at Stiles expectantly.

Stiles moved over Derek, easing a couple of fingers inside him to stretch him a little as he knelt between Derek’s legs.

Derek’s mouth fell open a little, his head tipping back slightly. “Yeah,” he murmured, grunting softly. He spread his legs apart to make access a little easier for Stiles.

Stiles smiled and slid his fingers back out, guiding his erection into Derek. He thrust in until he was all the way inside, their hips pressed together. “Good? With me so far?”

Derek nodded, tilting his hips up to open himself up to Stiles even more. “Yeah,” he breathed out. “Very good. So good.” He nodded again.

Stiles started thrusting harder, bracing his hands on the mattress as he pounded into Derek, determined to follow through on what he had promised.

Derek groaned loudly, lifting one hand to grasp the headframe of the bed while the other settled on the back of Stiles’ head. One leg wrapped around Stiles’ hip, his own hips moving steadily.

“You should’ve just asked me to give it to you.” Stiles smiled. “I would’ve done it, no problem. I think you see that now, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Derek murmured in agreement, his head bobbing. “Should’ve asked you right from the start.” He breathed out. “Fuck me. Fuck me harder.”

Stiles leaned down to kiss Derek as he pulled the older man’s hips up, giving him more room to thrust inside. “So good.” He smiled. “I want you to come.”

Derek inhaled sharply, watching the other man and nodding. “God, yeah,” he blurted, arching his hips up again. He shuddered as he braced himself against Stiles, hanging on to Stiles tightly as he shivered and came with a loud moan.

Stiles grinned, kissing Derek’s neck as his own hips stuttered. He came a moment later, then rolled onto his back and turned his head to look at Derek, catching his breath.

Derek dropped back against the mattress, exhaling softly and staring up at the ceiling as he tried to catch his breath. “Damn.” He breathed out, one hand unconsciously going to Stiles’ back and rubbing gently.

“Good, yeah?” Stiles smiled. “You care if I take a shower right now?”

Derek shook his head. “Not at all. Go ahead.” He murmured, letting out a yawn. “If I’m asleep when you get out, give me a kick to go to the bathroom and clean myself up.” He requested.

“Sure.” Stiles got up, gathering his clothes and carrying them into the bathroom with him. He scrubbed at his shirts, jeans and boxers with a little bit of the soap that had been left for them in the bathroom, then rinsed everything clean and took a shower, wrapping a towel around his waist when he was done. He put the damp clothes down on the heater, then sat at the edge of the bed and shook Derek’s shoulder. “Your turn.”

Derek looked up at him and smiled faintly. “Thanks.” He murmured, getting up and stumbling sleepily into the bathroom. He barely waited until the water was warm before he ducked his head under the shower head and rested his forehead against the tile, letting the water stream down his back. It felt like hours before he finally moved to clean the rest of his body off, and then he made his way back into the bedroom, his body moving languidly as he dropped onto the bed once more. He stretched out and sighed in relaxation.

Stiles muted the tv and glanced at Derek. “Seems like you needed that.” He remarked, smiling.

Derek glanced up at Stiles and smiled back. “I did. I shower every night, but today just felt…” He shook his head. “And then, with you, well…” His lips twitched. “I don’t generally get that messy.”

“Well, I meant the sex.” Stiles laughed. “But it’s nice to know that you’re good about hygiene.”

Derek laughed quietly. “I did need the sex, yes. It’s been… Uh, it’s been a bit longer than I’d care to admit.” He stretched again, groaning in relief when his back let out a crack. A thought occurred to him a moment later, and he glanced at Stiles. “How old are you, anyway? I won’t tell if you’re underage, I just…” He shook his head. “Part of me wants to know.”

“Seventeen.” Stiles lied again, figuring if Caitlyn had believed it, Derek would, too. “But I’m not going to say anything about you, either.”

Derek nodded, giving Stiles a small smile. “Appreciate it. Thank you.” He turned his gaze to the tv for a moment, and then said quietly, “Whatever it is you’re looking for, I hope you find it, Batman.”

“Thanks, but I’m not looking for anything.” Stiles shrugged. “I’m just trying to get by.” He grimaced, feeling like he had said more than enough.

“Fair enough.” Derek murmured. He glanced over at the teen and smiled faintly. “Well, in that case, I hope you do. Get by, I mean. And…” He hesitated, then said, “If you ever need something, you can get in touch with me. I’ll do what I can to help.”

Stiles nodded. He doubted that he would ever call, but he understood that Derek felt like he should at least offer. “Give me your address? I’ll send you money. Soon.”

Derek frowned a little. “You don’t need to send me money.” He said, even as he recited his address for Stiles. “Really, it’s not necessary.”

“I’m going to, anyway.” Stiles wrote down Derek’s information on a scrap piece of paper, then tore it off of the notepad and folded it in half twice, setting it down in the dresser because his clothes were still wet. “You’re the first person that’s wanted to do something for me without expecting anything out of it.” He glanced at the rest of the notepad, realizing that the pen had pressed down on at least two of the papers underneath the one he had actually written on. He tore them from the notepad and ripped them into pieces, then flushed them down the toilet before he sat back down on the bed.

Derek watched him steadily, and then ducked his head, nodding and giving him a small smile. “I appreciate that.” He murmured. “It’d be my luck to leave my address anywhere that some random person could find it.” He sighed. “And really - I don’t mind helping you out. Doing something for someone and expecting repayment is just presumptuous. And rude.”

“I’m good at not leaving anything behind.” Stiles murmured. He pointed at his clothes. “That’s all I have, right there.”

“That’s all you’ve got?” Derek asked, glancing at the clothing pile and frowning. “That doesn’t frustrate you, a little? You don’t ever wish for new clothes?”

“Nah. I started off with a big duffel bag full of stuff.” Stiles hesitated, glancing up at Derek. “I mean... nevermind. Let’s just... as far as you’re concerned, I’m Batman and I’m paying you back for at least the gas money it took to get me here.”

Derek paused, but nodded. “Alright.” He said quietly. He gave the younger man another, crooked smile and added, “Batman.”

Stiles nodded back, then settled back against the headboard to watch tv, keeping the volume quiet. His stomach rumbled, but he wrapped an arm around his waist and did his best to ignore it.

Derek was bolt upright, the instant he heard Stiles’ stomach grumble, stumbling to his feet and cursing at himself. “Jesus christ, I’m an asshole.” He muttered. “Of course you’d be hungry, I didn’t even bother to ask you. I’m calling in an order for pizza. Pepperoni? Olives, mushrooms? What’s your pleasure?” He asked. “And don’t you dare tell me no, and don’t even think about paying me back for this, I mean it.”

“Order what you want.” Stiles murmured. “I’ll just have a couple of slices. If you get something I don’t want... I’d say that I’ll just pick it off, but I’ll probably just eat it anyway.” He avoided looking at Derek, keeping his gaze fixed on the tv, instead.

Derek stared at Stiles for a moment, and then nodded, turning to call the closest pizza place before he placed an order. Staring at the address in the phone book, Derek peeked outside the motel room window, and exhaled. He hadn’t ordered anything absurd - just a large pizza with pepperoni, sausage and extra cheese - but the place didn’t deliver, and the pizza would be done in a half an hour. Thankfully, the place wasn’t far. He dropped down next to Stiles again, focusing his gaze on the tv as well.

Stiles was silent for a long moment, wrapping the blanket around himself when he shivered. “Thanks.” He mumbled, yawning. “I don’t know how the hell you ended up needing somebody like me for a decent fuck, you’re a nice guy. Somebody should’ve caught on by now.” His eyelids drooped.

Derek let out a quiet laugh. “You’d be surprised.” He murmured. “Oddly enough, some people don’t want the nice guy. For a fuck, or a relationship.”

“Well, they’re stupid.” Stiles laughed, laying down on his side and closing his eyes.

“They are.” Derek agreed softly. He glanced at Stiles, and then reached for the blanket, drawing it up around Stiles’ shoulders.

*****

A few hours later, Stiles woke up and was out of the bed before he gave himself time to process where he was. A quick look around the room had him relaxing and taking a deep breath. Pizza was on the dresser, the box closed. His clothes were dry, so he put them on and threw the damp towel on the bathroom floor.

Derek stepped inside the room quietly, looking up when he saw Stiles awake. “Hey.” He greeted, nodding at the younger man. “I wasn’t sure when you were going to wake up, so I went ahead and got you another night here.” He didn’t add that he’d gotten an entirely separate pizza order after Stiles had fallen asleep, and had only taken one slice out of the box on the table to supplement the personal pizza he’d bought.

Stiles looked around again as he rubbed his eyes. He nodded to Derek, then crossed the room and kissed him. “Thank you.” Almost just as quickly, he was back across the room and getting himself a slice of pizza.

Derek blinked, but smiled faintly. “You’re welcome.” He murmured. “Where do you think you’ll head after this?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t know. Wherever my feet take me, I guess.” Stiles shrugged. “I haven’t really seen much point in staying somewhere for too long, and like I was saying before? A big city is easier to stay in than a small town. So I might be here a while. I might go to LA. Or I could get ambitious and cross the border into Mexico, if I can find a way to get there.”

“You could always hop into the back of someone’s truck and pretend you’re a sack of potatoes.” Derek suggested, his lips twitching.

“Oh yeah.” Stiles laughed, thinking of a blonde joke he had heard once. “‘Potato!’” He snorted, blushing. “Nevermind, it’s... whatever.”

Derek leaned forward, grinning. “No. Tell me, really.”

“Okay. These three women are hiding out on a farm. A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead, right? The farmer sends his dog into the barn to try to find the women, and the dog leads the farmer to the stall where he keeps the pigs. The farmer kicks the door, the brunette says ‘oink oink.’ So the farmer shrugs it off and lets the dog lead him to where the cow’s stall is. The farmer kicks the door and the redhead says ‘moo.’ So the farmer, obviously he’s not the smartest guy, whatever. He wanders through the barn, following the dog, and stops where the potatoes are all stored in bags. The farmer kicks one and the blonde goes, ‘Potato!’” Stiles rolled his eyes, but laughed again. “I heard that one when I was about twelve.”

Derek laughed quietly, finding himself grinning at the genuine amusement on Stiles’ face. “It’s hilarious.” He murmured, nodding at the younger man.

Stiles’ smile faded after a moment and he looked away. He had already looked up hostels in the area, before he even got to Derek’s town. For twenty-five dollars a night, he could have a bunk bed to himself in a room that held four people. It wasn’t ideal, but it was cheaper than trying to get enough money together to have a room to himself.

Derek watched him silently. “I know you don’t want my help,” he started. “At least, not anymore help than I’ve already given you. But… will you at least accept one more thing from me?”

“Depends on what it is.” Stiles turned his head to look at Derek again.

“My duffel bag.” Derek replied, hoisting it up and setting it on the table. “... And a few t-shirts.”

Stiles gave Derek a skeptical look, but he got up and started rifling through the bag. “Two t-shirts.” He countered. “And I’m only saying two because I know if I tell you I just want one, you’re going to insist on me taking more. I do get how this works.”

Derek laughed quietly. “Fair enough.” He said. “As long as you take them. I don’t care.”

Stiles smiled faintly and pulled the shirt off over his head that he had been wearing, putting one of the other shirts on, instead. He shoved the old shirt and one of the new ones into the duffel bag, then got the slip of paper with Derek’s phone number and address, tucking it into one of the shirt pockets, inside the bag.

Derek stood and tugged gently at the shirt. “It looks good on you.” He said quietly.

“So, when you get back to Beacon Falls, are you going to do what I told you and find a job in town?” Stiles teased, changing the subject.

Derek looked amused. “I… suppose I could.” He murmured. “I’m not sure what I would look for, though.”

“Why do you look like you’re about to laugh at me?” Stiles sat down and started eating another slice of pizza.

“I guess because you’re probably one of the first people that’s made me laugh in a while.” Derek told him, smiling.

“Oh. Well, good.” Stiles nodded. “You should laugh more. And I don’t know what job to tell you to get. Bouncer? Something.”

Derek tilted his head, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Bouncer could work, sure.” He agreed.

“So why do you live there, anyway? I mean, what’s so great about the small town?” Stiles asked. “It just sounds like a hassle to me.”

“My family.” Derek replied, shrugging. “My mom and dad, my siblings. My dogs, and my cat.” He smiled faintly. “I grew up with all of the kids in that down. Refused to date three-quarters of them. My best friends are there. I know literally everyone. I know it seems weird to some people, but… after driving around everywhere and seeing all these huge places, it’s kind of nice to roll back into a small place and literally get greeted by name.”

“So what’s...” Stiles faltered, reading the side of the duffel bag. “Derek, what the fuck? I’ve been calling your town Beacon Falls all freaking day and you didn’t correct me.”

Derek grinned. “I thought it was cute.” He admitted, shrugging.

Stiles groaned and shook his head. “Okay.” He murmured, at a loss for anything else to say. He was starting to worry that if he spent more time around Derek, everything would just come out and he didn’t want that to happen.

Derek laughed quietly. “Sorry. Uh.” He exhaled, clearly at a loss for words as well. He looked down, suddenly feeling sorry that he felt like he had nothing else to speak with Stiles about.

“Thanks again for all of this.” Stiles wondered how far away he could get if he disappeared the next time Derek went to the bathroom. It would have been ideal if he could stay, but he knew better.

“It’s not a problem, really.” Derek told him. “I was glad to do it.” He could practically see the desire to bolt in Stiles’ eyes.

Stiles nodded. He started to fidget. “Hey, you know... you could get me a soda.” He smiled tentatively. “I think the vending machine is down by the front desk.”

Derek stood, squinting at Stiles before he slowly nodded. “Okay.” He said agreeably. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that was saying that this instant would be the very last one that he would see Stiles again. He slowly went toward the door of the motel room and exhaled. “I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah.” Stiles got to his feet, moving toward Derek for another kiss, knowing it was his last one. “Dr. Pepper, okay? Or Sprite, I guess.”

Derek kissed him back slowly, settling his hand down on Stiles’ hip and closing his eyes. He pulled back and exhaled. “Okay.” He said softly. He smiled weakly and pulled away again, stepping out of the doorway. He was gone a little later.

Stiles grabbed two more slices of pizza and shoved them into the duffel bag, then took it and ran in the other direction from where Derek had gone, his feet pounding the pavement as he ran toward the nearest traffic light. He wasn’t sure where he was going exactly, but he knew he could sell the duffel bag for at least a little bit of money. He felt guilty, but he was still determined to pay Derek back somehow. Now, he mused, he also owed the older man for a soda that he would never even drink.

Derek returned to the hotel room after a few minutes, a soda in hand. His shoulders slumped when he saw the door to the motel room open, and the room itself empty. Exhaling softly, he cracked the soda open and took a small sip, leaning against the wall before he straightened. Grabbing his keys and the rest of his things, he grabbed the keycard and returned it to the front desk before making his way out to his truck. He started it up after he climbed in, and then looked around the outside of the motel. “Good luck, Batman.” He murmured out loud, and then pulled out of the lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek drives Stiles to a motel. They have sex, and Derek realizes that Stiles is practically starving and needs help. He orders food for him and lets him sleep. Stiles wakes up and panics, sending Derek to get him a soda so he can get away, but he was never in any danger.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles stared at her for a moment. “Are you always this forward? I didn’t say you could sit on my bed.”
> 
> “Do you want me to get off?” Erica asked bluntly, raising her eyebrows at him. “And yes, actually.”
> 
> Stiles eyed Erica, then smiled. “You can stay. As for getting off, I usually charge for it.”
> 
> Erica grinned at him widely. “I like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Underage sex.

Three hours, one slice of pizza and a handjob later, Stiles handed the clerk at the hostel twenty-five dollars and made his way to the room he was assigned. He threw his bag down on one of the top bunks, climbing up after it and stretching out on his back. He laughed to himself, thinking about how he had signed in on the sheet as ‘Batman.’ It was a good alias, and he was grateful to Derek for inadvertently suggesting it to him. He didn’t have any ID, but the clerk had overlooked it. He doubted she would be as forgiving a second night, though.

“Well, then, looks like we’ve got a newbie.” A feminine voice came from the doorway. Erica raised her eyebrows, her arms crossed over her chest as she smiled across the room at Stiles. “Hi, there. What’s your name, cutie?”

Stiles smiled back at Erica. “Batman.” He laughed. “I know it’s weird, but it’s my name. My dad was a fanatic.” He had no way of knowing if that was true, he’d never even so much as met the man, but he figured it had a good chance of not being a lie.

Erica grinned back at him, stalking forward. “Batman, huh? How you doin’, Bruce?” She crawled onto the bed next to him.

Stiles stared at her for a moment. “Are you always this forward? I didn’t say you could sit on my bed.”

“Do you want me to get off?” Erica asked bluntly, raising her eyebrows at him. “And yes, actually.”

Stiles eyed Erica, then smiled. “You can stay. As for getting off, I usually charge for it.”

Erica grinned at him widely. “I like you.” She told him, nodding. “Everyone else starts blushing and stuttering or freaking out when I say shit like this.”

“Well, I’m not like everybody else.” Stiles shrugged. “What’s your name?”

“Erica.” Her eyes twinkled. “But you, Bruce, you can call me Catwoman.”

“All right, Catwoman.” Stiles held a hand out to her. “Hey, you want a slice of pizza? I know it sounds shady to be offered food out of a freakin’ duffel bag, but it’s good. I just had to leave in a hurry and couldn’t fit the box in here.”

“Nah, keep it.” Erica told him. “I’m thinking I’m gonna get Chinese tonight for dinner, I just want to wait a little longer. They give you bigger portions after a certain time, you know? Hey, you wanna share? I was gonna go for some lo mein and something seafood-ish.”

“Yeah.” Stiles grinned. “Oh man, I haven’t had Chinese in months. I’ve got about ten bucks I can chip in. The rest of it has to go to staying here another night.” He grimaced, realizing that his short time with Derek had already made him a little too trusting. “Touch my money and I’ll fucking kill you.” He blurted, not even meaning it. He hoped he sounded serious enough, though.

Erica giggled at him. “Oh, come on, Bruce, I wouldn’t do that. Oh, but you should hide it, though. Some of the dickheads around here get a little handsy.” She moved her hand to the inside of his thigh brazenly, looking at him playfully. “And not in the fun way.”

Stiles put his hand over Erica’s. “Your first reaction was to say to call you ‘Catwoman,’ and you think I’m going to assume you won’t steal from me?” He smiled. “You have a job? A real one, I mean. Not like mine?” 

Erica looked curiously at him. “What sort of job do you have?” She asked. “I mostly dance at a club and smack boys when their hands get a little too fresh.” She grinned. “The pay’s great.”

“Well, here’s a hint.” Stiles murmured. “You could say I’m a freelance consultant for, uh, stress counseling?” He snorted. “Something like that. And if I hadn’t found a client, I wouldn’t have been able to afford staying here for the night.”

Erica laughed. “Sounds a little like what I do, but a little more… hands on.” She teased, and moved closer, kneeling over him a little.

Stiles smiled at her and sat up a little, putting his hands on her waist and kissing her.

Erica squirmed into his lap, straddling him as she kissed him back eagerly. Her hair fell over their faces, curtaining them both.

Stiles cupped Erica’s breasts, kissing her neck as he started rutting against her. He heard other people walking in, but he didn’t care about being polite and stopping.

Erica whimpered, grunting as she bounced in his lap. This wasn’t the first time she’d been caught by other people, dry-humping or fucking someone in bed, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but like Stiles, she didn’t particularly care about stopping. The other lodgers were used to her, anyway.

“Jesus, she works fast.” Isaac muttered, staring at the couple on the bed unabashedly.

Lydia tilted her head as she braced a hand on Isaac’s arm, stepping out of her shoes. “I can’t see much of him.” She remarked. “Assuming he’s even a him in the first place. It could be another girl. That wouldn’t be the first time.” She unpinned her hair and started to take it out of the braid she had it in, sighing as she massaged her scalp. “I need a new job.”

“I told you you’d regret accepting that job.” Isaac told her, lifting a hand up tentatively to run his fingers through her hair. He still couldn’t quite take his eyes off of the top bunk.

“I’m getting paid twelve dollars an hour to sell makeup.” Lydia closed her eyes, leaning more against Isaac. “What I don’t spend on a bed here, or food, is going toward getting myself a place of my own. As it is, the rent for an apartment is more than what one of us spends a month in this place.”

“We’ll get a windfall one day.” Isaac reassured her, finally looking down at her with a small smile. “And then we won’t need to worry about jobs, we can just buy a house, and then sit on the rest of the money we didn’t spend.”

Lydia smiled and kissed Isaac’s cheek. She turned back toward the couple, still grinding on the bed. “Erica, let’s go get food.”

Erica waved a hand at her. “Later, I’m about to have a snack.” She called, squirming down Stiles’ body.

“Oh, it is a guy.” Isaac noted, looking surprised.

Stiles laughed as he waved at Lydia and Isaac, not the least bit concerned. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Isaac replied, looking bemused.

Erica fought with the clasp of Stiles’ jeans, nearly growling at the fabric’s refusal to give. The zipper finally came loose, tooth by tooth, and she pounced, wrapping her mouth around Stiles with a happy moan.

Stiles groaned, running his fingers through Erica’s hair. “I’m probably not staying too long.” He rolled his hips up. “A week at most.”

“But you just got here.” Lydia protested. “Where are you from, anyway?”

“Everywhere.” Stiles shrugged one shoulder.

“Everywhere?” Isaac repeated, squinting at Stiles. He ignored Erica’s bobbing head and pleased whines, shaking his head. “What does ‘everywhere’ constitute?” He asked.

“My foot in your ass, if you don’t stop asking him questions!” Erica blurted, pulling off of Stiles for a moment and glaring at Isaac.

“Damn it, Erica. Let him talk.” Lydia smiled at Stiles. “You’re already better than the guy that was here last night. He had a stutter and seemed almost like he reveled in it. He kept asking us where the b-b-bathroom was.”

“Isn’t there one in here?” Stiles stroked the backs of his fingers over Erica’s cheek, giving her a fond smile.

“Exactly.” Lydia nodded. “So, go ahead and answer us. Where’s ‘everywhere?’”

“New Jersey, Vermont, Rhode Island, New York, Massachusetts, Georgia, Ohio, Tennessee, Nevada, here. And everywhere in between.” Stiles explained. “I’m a walking Johnny Cash song.”

“Nice.” Isaac’s eyes widened, looking impressed.

Erica sat up properly, sighing. She shifted sideways until she was sitting in Stiles’ lap, facing her roommates with a vague scowl. “Wonder what it’d be like to get the hell out of this state.” She murmured, leaning back against Stiles.

“It’s no different from anywhere else.” Stiles murmured. He gripped her thigh gently and slid two fingers inside her after parting her legs, kissing her shoulder. “But small towns are worse.”

Erica’s eyes fluttered shut, her head tilting back against Stiles’ shoulder, and she thrust her hips up to meet his hand, whimpering.

Isaac shook his head. “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been to one. I always think, ‘Addams’ Family.’ Not sure why.”

“I was in one this morning.” Stiles murmured. “Some girl tried to tell me she was a cop. I actually bought it for a minute, but I’ve seen a few undercover busts, and they’ll use anybody.” He pushed a third finger inside Erica, twisting his wrist as he thrust his fingers in and out of her. He brushed his lips against her ear, smiling. “I’m going to make you come at least four times before I’m done with you.”

Erica moaned and shuddered against him, slumping back against his chest. She breathed out evenly, and put one hand over Stiles’. “One down, three to go.” She murmured.

Stiles used his other hand to turn Erica’s head toward him as he leaned in to kiss her, his thumb rubbing against her clit as he pushed his fingers in deeper.

Lydia stood up on the frame of the lower bunk, bracing her forearms on the rail for the top bunk as she watched, unashamed. “You should probably just fuck her.” She advised. “Or me. I’ve had a long day.”

Erica made a low, rage-filled noise of protest as she eagerly thrust against Stiles, her lips clumsily mashing against his.

Isaac looked up at her, patting her leg. “I’ve offered, you know.” He mumbled, staring up at Lydia with a jutting lower lip.

Lydia turned to look at Isaac. “Take off your pants.”

Isaac’s hand went to the fly of his jeans, unfastening them quickly and barely watching when they slid to the floor. He stepped out of them easily.

Lydia smiled and laid down on the bottom bunk, in the other set of beds. She pulled her skirt up around her hips and unfastened her bra.

Isaac grinned, but before he moved to Lydia’s side, he firmly went toward the dorm entrance and closed their door, locking it before he made his way back over. He cupped Lydia’s face and kissed her before he pushed at her skirt and pulled at her underwear. He shifted onto the bed above her and slid inside of her, bringing her knees up to his chest.

Lydia cried out, staring up at Isaac. “Kiss me.”

Isaac practically tripped over himself to do so, his lips eagerly seeking Lydia’s out.

Stiles watched Isaac and Lydia, or at least what he could see of them, as he worked to keep making Erica come. “I could take you away from here.” He told Erica softly. “We could go wherever you want. I have a feeling you won’t go anywhere without those two, though. Am I right about that?”

Erica leaned her head against Stiles’, panting softly as she moved her body against his. She nodded. “He's - he's like my little brother. And she's my best friend. Closest I have to one, anyway.” She replied just as softly. “I wouldn't feel right, leaving them behind.”

“So we’ll travel together.” Stiles murmured, thinking as he bit down lightly on Erica’s shoulder. Traveling with a group might be a little harder, but they could pool their resources, and it didn't have to be permanent.

“Hold on.” Lydia gasped out, twisting around a little on the bed to look up at Stiles and Erica. “I have a steady job. I’m saving up for a real place. And we don’t even know you.”

“You weren't concerned about that when you asked for my dick.” Stiles pointed out.

“Ugh. How old are you, anyway?” Lydia demanded, turning her head to kiss Isaac. “You’re good at this.”

“I’m seventeen.” Stiles smiled, wondering if he would start to believe it himself if he said it enough.

Lydia gasped again. “Erica! Get his fingers out of you right now, that boy is going to get you arrest- ooh. Arrested.” She closed her eyes. Isaac’s thrusts were making her almost seasick as she tried to focus on her friend and the teenage boy with her.

Erica rolled her eyes, waving the other girl off. “Who's going to tell? I'm sure as hell - oh my fucking god -” she yelped, twisting around abruptly and climbing right back into Stiles’ lap, dragging him to her for a kiss as she straddled his hips. She moaned contentedly. “‘M not gonna tell,” she slurred.

Isaac grinned at Lydia, burying his face in her neck as he slammed into her. “Told you I would be.” He murmured. “God, you're so pretty. I wanna make you come, Lyds. Forget about everything else except coming.”

Stiles smiled at Erica. “Are you clean?”

Erica nodded at him, clutching his shoulders.

Lydia nodded as she looked up at Isaac. “Okay.”

Isaac grinned down at her, lowering his head down to kiss her. He slammed into her roughly, his hips pressing firmly into hers before falling away again.

Stiles moved Erica off of his lap, shifting around until he was on his stomach on the bed. He started kissing her stomach as he rubbed her thighs.

Erica whined softly, wriggling against him and twisting up, trying to get closer to his touch.

Stiles laughed. “Lay back. I’ve got you, okay?” He tugged at her underwear, working to pull it off without ripping it.

Erica nodded slowly, exhaling and laying back as he’d requested. She stretched her arms out across the small bed and dug her fingers in, tilting her head back on the pillow. “Okay.”

Stiles started eating Erica out, sliding his hands up and down her legs. He smiled against her skin, eager to get her off again.

Erica whimpered, spreading her legs apart. Her hips jerked, and she let out a soft gasp, reaching for his head with one hand and tugging at his hair roughly. “Oh, my god.” She blurted, her hips shifting restlessly.

Stiles groaned, closing his eyes. After a moment, he moved up her body and thrust into her, kissing her neck as he pulled her legs around his waist.

“Oh, god, yes,” Erica cursed, wrapping her arms around him as well, locking her ankles at the small of his back.

“Glad you met me?” Stiles asked, teasing.

“Not even a doubt,” Erica blurted, hanging onto him tightly.

Stiles started thrusting harder into Erica, reaching behind him to grab his pillow. He put it against the bed frame, to prevent Erica from hitting her head. “What do you think, do you want to come one more time?” He smiled slowly.

Erica nodded frantically, tiny squawks and cries escaping her throat with each thrust. “Yeah, yes, please, I want - I wanna come, please make me come,” she begged.

Lydia tapped Isaac’s shoulder, laughing. “That’s new.” She murmured, meaning Erica’s pleading tone.

Stiles slid his hands under Erica’s hips, lifting them as he moved up onto his knees, thrusting deeper into her.

Erica shrieked as she came, her legs hanging loosely from where they lay over Stiles’ arms.

Stiles smiled and kissed her, trying to muffle her before someone came to check on them.

Erica kissed him back, moaning and whimpering into his mouth. She slumped back against the mattress, panting softly. “Oh, god.”

“Pretty sure I said to call me Batman.” Stiles laughed. “You okay?”

Erica stared up at him, laughing. “Yeah, I’m good. I feel high. Goddamn, you’re good.” She lifted her head and nipped at his chin.

Stiles grinned. “Well, I’d hope so.” He murmured. “Okay, so where’s this Chinese food place?”

Erica sat up slowly, using his shoulder to brace herself. “Downtown.” She said simply. “Maybe about ten minutes, just walking.”

“Okay.” Stiles repeated. He got dressed, climbing down from the bunk to wash his face in the sink in the bathroom.

Erica turned, looking idly over at Lydia and Isaac. “Got much longer to go?” She asked. “Wanna go get Chinese?”

Lydia nodded. “Isaac, just pull out already.” She murmured. “We’ll just have to try this again later.”

Isaac exhaled, looking embarrassed as he did what Lydia said. “Sorry.” He muttered, standing and pulling on his clothes once more.

Erica watched him. “Hey. Quit pouting. She didn’t say that you sucked or anything.”

“I was enjoying myself.” Lydia agreed. “But I’m hungry and the amount of time I want to spend with you is more than five more minutes, okay?”

“Okay.” Isaac murmured, nodding slowly. “Sorry. I mean -” He shook his head and held his hand out to her.

Lydia got up and adjusted her clothes, then opened the closet door to get something to change into. She took off the skirt she had been wearing and pulled on a pair of pants, then pulled her hair up into a bun.

Erica cleaned up and dressed as well, patting Isaac on the shoulder with a faint grin. “I’m gonna go find Batman.” She said, and walked toward the bathroom. “Hey, Bruce, we’re ready to go whenever you are.”

Stiles leaned out, nodding to Erica. “I’m just... can I put my duffel bag in the closet you guys are using?”

Erica blinked, then nodded. “Yeah, sure. Of course.” She told him. “Go for it, hon.”

Stiles smiled in relief and put the duffel bag in the closet, running his fingers through his hair before he shut the door and made sure it was locked. “Thanks.” He murmured.

Lydia eyed Stiles, trying to figure out how he had ended up with them. She hadn’t ever been one to pry, choosing to learn by observation instead. But something about him was different.

Isaac stared at Stiles curiously, uncertain of the other teen. But, he reasoned, that Erica wasn’t bothered, and if she wasn’t, then he didn’t think he had reason to be. “Alright. Well, let’s get going, yeah?”

Lydia held her hand out to Isaac, smiling at him. She led the way out of the room, waiting for everyone else to be out before she locked the door behind her. “See? Everything is safe.” She told Stiles, who still seemed hesitant to leave his things behind.

“Yeah, it’s just...” Stiles murmured. “Nevermind. Let’s go eat.”

Erica draped an arm around his shoulders, leaning against him. “I love this place.” She told him, nodding. “Best Chinese place in town. They have sushi, too, but it’s not a buffet, so you don’t have to worry about anyone except the waiters and chefs touching your food.”

Stiles nodded, lost in thought. He wanted to tell them how old he really was, but he felt guilty for it. He hadn’t even told Derek, and Derek had been the nicest person he had met so far. He liked Erica and the others, but he could tell that they weren’t much different from him, too jaded to be kind. Not only that, but if he did tell them that he was only fifteen, they might see it as weakness. He rubbed his neck, thinking of the hyenas from The Lion King.

Erica trailed her hand over the wall and doorways as they passed, until they left the hostel and bounced out onto the sidewalk, tugging Stiles along. “So. Batman, huh? Any particular reason why?”

“Oh, um. My dad liked Batman a lot.” Stiles murmured, frowning to himself. It was harder to keep the lies straight now, knowing he was going to keep seeing these people. The ones that had just wanted to fuck him didn’t care what he had to say. He was going to have to be more careful. “And he doesn’t like the name Bruce. Because of... Bruce Banner. He used to call him the, um, Angry Green Giant.”

Erica tilted her head, squinting at him. “Uh, well… shit, okay. I’ll lay off the Bruce thing?” She shrugged, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“No, I mean, it’s okay.” Stiles smiled at her. “I haven’t even seen him in like, forever.”

“Where did you live before you started doing all of the traveling, though?” Lydia demanded.

Stiles hesitated, trying to decide what answer to give. He went with the honest one. “Reno. I was born there.”

“Nice.” Isaac murmured, looking impressed. “I grew up in Montana. Finally got away so I could come to college here and, well. I can’t really afford the boarding costs for the rooms there.”

Lydia nodded. “I was in a dorm for a semester, but my roommate was a complete bitch. She stole a lot of things from me. Now I work full time and go to school full time, and barely have time for anything else. I’m from Minnesota.”

Erica grinned faintly. “I’m the hometown girl, technically. I’m from Pacifica.” She sighed. “And same reasons, too, actually. Couldn’t afford boarding, crazy ass roommate, my parents wouldn’t let me come home…” She grimaced. “It’s whatever. I found this place, and I found those two, and everyone else can blow me.”

“So you’re all over eighteen and in college?” Stiles asked, feeling like a brick wall might as well have been put up between himself and his new friends.

Erica shrugged. “Didn’t say I was still in college, but yeah, I’m over eighteen.”

Isaac snorted. “She got kicked out after her second semester. It’s why her parents wouldn’t let her come home. I’m eighteen. Just had a birthday, actually.”

“I’m eighteen, also.” Lydia murmured. “And in my second year of college. I graduated early and traveled for a year before I enrolled at Stanford. I tested out of most of my required courses, anyway. Honestly, someone should just give me a job as a professor. I’ve had to correct mine enough times.”

Isaac grinned. “I have exactly one class with her. It was glorious. She made the actual professor cry and run out of the room.”

Stiles laughed. “Remind me not to piss you off.” He told Lydia.

“It’s pretty easy to stay on my good side.” Lydia gave Stiles a knowing look. “Don’t lie to me or steal from me.”

Stiles’ smile wavered, but he nodded. “Okay.”

Erica squeezed Stiles’ shoulder, giving Lydia a disapproving look. “Come on, it’s just right down there.” She told Stiles, pointing at the restaurant. She hurried Stiles along, creating a bit of a distance between him and Lydia.

“Wait.” Lydia called out, catching up to Erica. She turned toward Isaac. “Why don’t you and... Batman... go ahead of us and get a table? Erica and I will be in there in a couple of minutes.”

Isaac nodded slowly, bending his head down to give her a kiss on the cheek. To Stiles, he said, “Hey, come on. If we’re lucky, we can get the table by the kitchens.”

Erica looked at Lydia warily. “What is it?” She asked carefully.

Lydia waited until both of the guys were gone before she spoke. “Why are you okay with him lying to you like that? His name is so obviously not Batman, and he’s a little too protective of that duffel bag. It’s probably full of drugs. How else would he travel around, the way he has?”

“Hand outs and blow jobs.” Erica replied bluntly, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m not looking for a long term relationship or something, Lyds. If he feels more comfortable lying his ass off to us, then why the hell shouldn’t we let him? I doubt that bag has anything more in it than clothes. He told me he had a slice of pizza in there earlier. A single slice of pizza. And he offered it to me. Who the fuck would carry around a slice of pizza with drugs, and then offer it to someone free of charge?”

“Well, if it was laced, someone who wanted to get you hooked, so that you’ll come back for more.” Lydia murmured. “That’s what happened to my stupid roommate. That’s why she stole everything from me and pawned it. The bitch.” She sighed. “You and I and Isaac have never felt the need to lie to one another. I don’t know if I can tolerate being around someone who can’t just be honest. If it means that I end up in a room where I’m paying eighty a night instead of twenty-five, I guess that’s just what I’ll have to do. But this makes me uncomfortable, Erica.”

Erica sighed. “I’m sorry it makes you uncomfortable.” She told Lydia, turning to the other girl and taking her hands. “I feel bad for the kid. I really don’t think he’s into anything bad, but if he’s lying, and he’s traveling… and he looks as young as he does…” She bit her lip, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I feel like he’s just looking for something, but he doesn’t know what. And if he’s lying, he’s lying for a reason. I mean…” She trailed off, exhaling slowly. “He looks really young, Lyds. Maybe it’s that haircut, or those eyes, but I feel like he’s had some really bad shit happen to him.”

“So we’ll help him, then.” Lydia murmured. “But I want him to be honest. At least a little.”

“Ask him to be.” Erica told her, squeezing Lydia’s hand. “If it helps, I don’t think he was lying about where he was from.”

Lydia nodded. “I don’t think he was lying, either.” She hugged her friend. “Now come on, I’ve been wanting egg drop soup for hours.” She laughed, grabbing Erica’s hand and walking into the restaurant.

Erica grinned, twining her fingers with Lydia’s and bumping shoulders with the other girl. “I can’t understand how you can stomach that stuff. It makes my stomach turn. I’d rather have miso, or wonton. Or hot and sour.”

“When you’ve only got two eggs and some chicken broth, you deal with it.” Lydia muttered. “If I ever see her again, I swear...” She sat down beside Isaac and paused for a second, then leaned toward him for a kiss. “Hi.”

Isaac turned a brilliant smile on Lydia, leaning toward her. He cupped her cheek with one hand and kissed her back, pleased with the new turn in their relationship. “Hi, there. They came by and asked for drink orders.” He hesitated. “I ordered you an iced tea, unsweetened, if that’s okay? They always sweeten it weird when you ask for it the other way, so I figured…” He trailed off awkwardly.

Lydia smiled brightly. “That’s perfect. Thank you.” She leaned against him, putting her chin down on his shoulder. “I’m sorry that it’s taken me this long to give you a chance.”

Isaac smiled and rested his head against hers, wrapping his hand around hers. “It’s okay. It wouldn’t mean as much if I hadn’t had patience.”

Erica stared at the two of them with a smile. “You both disgust me.” She cooed.

Stiles laughed. He stared at the menu in front of him, more interested in price than what the food actually was, but nothing seemed appealing that was also less than ten dollars. He knew he could spend more, but then he wouldn’t have money for a second night in the hostel and he would have to either spend the day looking for someone to steal from or have sex with, and he was more than exhausted. Being with Erica and Derek had been different, because he actually wanted to be with them. But the idea of having to wrap his lips around another cock while he was insulted or smacked around... Stiles cleared his throat, trying not to show that he was horrified when he realized the water he had ordered was going to cost him six dollars, unless they understood he meant simple tap water. “I’m not hungry. I have pizza, so... I’m good.”

Erica frowned a little. “You don’t even want some, like, egg rolls or something?” She asked. “I can cover you, if you want to get a dinner meal.” She shot Lydia a look, biting her lower lip.

“It’s on me.” Lydia nodded at Erica, smiling at Stiles when he lowered his menu to stare at her. “You should try the romaine hearts with the roast chicken. You can get it without peppers if you don’t like spicy food. That’s how I order it. If you want, we could even split it. I was going to get egg drop soup, but now I think I want that, instead.” She picked the menu up, studying it carefully, even though she didn’t need to. “And then some matcha tiramisu, I think.”

Stiles immediately looked back down at his menu, calculating how much he would owe Lydia if he split a meal with her. Eleven dollars wasn’t terrible, he knew he could get that in less than an hour. “Okay.” He murmured. “But then I have to go to... um, the ATM. After this. I don’t have enough cash on me.”

Lydia glanced at Erica again, not sure what to say.

Erica didn’t look at Lydia, keeping her gaze on Stiles with a bright smile. “Don’t worry about it right now.” She told him. “We’ll eat, and then we’ll go back to the hostel and get some rest. Lydia’s good for it, I promise. She doesn’t start playing Debt Collector until you really fuck up.” She put her hand lightly on Stiles’ thigh, smiling. “No offense, Batman, but you look like you could use a good night’s sleep, so the sooner we get you on that path, the better.”

Stiles nodded, putting his menu down. “Okay. Sounds good.” He murmured. There was no way they would let him do what he needed to, he could see that now. He would have to wait for the right moment in the night to leave Lydia the money he owed her. Staying another night wasn’t possible. He was going to have to figure out a new plan, and fast.

Erica nodded, smiling and wrapping an arm around him. She kissed his cheek. “Good.”

Isaac set his menu and leaned back. “I’m getting the sliders and the panna cotta.” He announced.

Erica stared at him and scoffed. “You want dessert? You want dessert right now, really?”

“Why not?” Isaac stuck his tongue out at her.

Lydia laughed. “I’m ordering dessert right now, too.” She smiled. “I think Batman here should have dessert before dinner. He looks like he needs it.”

Stiles smiled half-heartedly, his mind still wandering. He hadn’t had Adderall in months, or any of the other medications he had been taking. He was surprised that he could string together a complete sentence, sometimes. The reality was, he didn’t actually want to go to Mexico. It just seemed like the best option for a runaway teen who didn’t want to be found.

Erica shook her head. “Well. I’m splurging. That old guy that keeps coming into the club to stare at my ass stuck a fifty in my bra and felt up my boobs before Boyd found out he was back and hauled him out. I’m getting the dan dan noodles and the tiramisu, if we’re gonna order early dessert.” She grinned at Stiles. “Sometimes working at a strip club has its benefits.”

Stiles nodded, glancing at Erica out of the corner of his eye to make sure he hadn’t misjudged what the right reaction was. If Lydia and Isaac were enrolled at Stanford, they would have to get the train to Palo Alto at some point, and he could just go with them and make an excuse about wanting to see the campus. If he did it right, he could disappear from there and maybe scam some drunken frat guys out of a little bit of money before he kept going.

Lydia frowned as she watched Stiles, hoping he was distracted enough to slip up when she spoke. “How old are you, really?”

“What?” Stiles blinked, frowning back at her. “I told you I’m seventeen.”

“And I said ‘how old are you, really?’” Lydia repeated.

Erica cleared her throat, reaching for her water and busying herself with taking a long drink.

Isaac nodded, squinting at Stiles. “You don’t really seem seventeen. I mean, I know it sorta looks different on everyone, but…” He shrugged.

Stiles bit his lip. He thought about handing Lydia money for his half of the meal, even though she had said it was her treat, and then bolting from the restaurant. But the waitress set their food down in front of him as he was reaching into his pocket, and he was too hungry to leave without eating. He would have rather paid in sex than truths, but he knew that lying again would be obvious to the others and they wouldn’t leave him alone until he gave them what they wanted. Frustrated, he sighed. “I’m fifteen.” He admitted, staring down at his plate. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Erica said simply, setting her glass down with a loud thunk. She looked at Lydia. “Okay?” She paused, and then looked at Stiles again. “You’re better than some twenty-five year olds I’ve screwed. Color me impressed.”

“Practice.” Stiles murmured, still not looking at anyone. “I should go?” He did glance up then, looking around the table. “Yeah. I should... I should go.” He stood up and got money out of his pocket, holding some of it out to Lydia. “Thanks for this, but I can take care of myself just fine, okay? Enjoy your dinner.”

“Sit down.” Lydia looked from his outstretched hand to his face, shaking her head. “I’m not taking that. Eat.”

Erica wrapped a hand around his and tugged him back into his chair. “Sit, Batman.” She murmured. “If you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go, but at least get a full meal first.” She watched him steadily. “We’re not taking any cash from you, alright?”

“I don’t take handouts.” Stiles muttered, but he sat down.

“You don’t have to tell us,” Lydia began, “But we want to know more about you. Real things. The three of us are family, and Erica has already adopted you. Like it or not. And that means that Isaac and I are adopting you, too.”

Stiles breathed in shakily.

Erica rubbed his shoulder gently. “I’m not literally going to adopt you.” She told him reassuringly, her eyes twinkling. “That’d be awkward, you know. I’m pretty sure they frown on adopters having sex with adoptees. Besides, I’m not the mothering type.” Her voice lilted as she teased him gently, though it became a bit more self-deprecating as her sentence ended.

Stiles got tears in his eyes and dragged his sleeve across them. He glanced at Erica again, not wanting to look at the others. He didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone, but he felt like she would be the least judgmental of the three. “My name is Stiles.” He reached for his water, taking a long drink before he spoke again. “My mom died when I was six, and I was in foster care until my fifteenth birthday. I don’t even know who my dad is.” He snorted, angry with himself. “For all I know, he hates Batman and loves Bruce Banner. Or he’s dead. Or I sucked his dick at some point and don’t even know it.”

Erica didn’t tug Stiles into a hug, like she wanted to. She did leave her hand on his shoulder, nodding slowly along with what he was telling her. “I’m sorry. Foster care must have been absolute shit.” She murmured. “And I’m sorry about your mom. And your dad, whoever he is. If he’s alive and he knows about you, he doesn’t deserve you. And I’m not saying that because I know you, I’m saying that because any parent worth a shit had better want their kid in their life.” She went quiet for a moment and then said tentatively, with a small smile, “I like your name.”

Stiles tried to smile back, but couldn’t. “Thanks.” He murmured. “I don’t even know where I’d try to find him, anyway. If he’s alive, I mean. I ditched my IDs when I left, and I don’t even have a wallet. I didn’t even have that duffel bag or a change of clothes until this guy, Derek, gave them to me. And now that I’m talking, I can’t shut up.” He laughed derisively. “So, anyway. I had some stuff and lost it along the way. Or had it stolen. Doesn’t matter.” He shrugged. “If I start looking for him, people are going to ask questions and they’ll just stick me back in foster care until they do find him. If they do. And if they don’t... I just can’t deal with that anymore, you know? But I’ve been moving around like this since January, and it’s... is it March?” He shrugged again. “I don’t even know anymore. No phone and I barely pay attention to anything that doesn’t...” He trailed off, thinking. “I could probably go back to Derek. He wasn’t my... he didn’t make me do anything. He’s just a nice guy that let me lie to him and made sure I got something to eat.”

Erica tilted her head, her eyes soft. “Well… You could go find him, but… you know, you could stay here, too. I don’t plan on telling on you to anyone. And… if you ever do want to look for your dad, maybe I could help a little. Couldn’t be that hard, right?”

“I guess.” Stiles mused. “I mean, there are databases for crap like that now, anyway.”

Lydia nodded. “Eat.” She told him again, sighing in relief when he listened to her and started eating. “If you lived in Reno for more than a year, there’s bound to be a record of you there. You and your mom. And I’m willing to bet that finding your dad won’t be too hard, after that. He might even be on your birth certificate.”

“Unless he’s in witness protection or something.” Isaac mused, pausing when he looked up and saw Erica glowering at him. “What? It could totally be plausible. Maybe Stiles’ mom was in Reno and his dad wasn’t around because he wanted to keep her safe or something.”

“Isaac, no.” Lydia muttered, sighing. She gave Erica an apologetic look, then took a bite of her dinner. “We’ll start in Reno and work backwards once we find someone that could be your dad.” She murmured, nodding to Stiles. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Trying to find him?”

“I guess.” Stiles shrugged. “I kind of remember her mentioning a BH a lot, among other things...” He faltered, thinking of the duffel bag. “Um. But the towns I’ve been to... nothing sounded like... it just didn’t seem like a place she would have gone. It’s all a long shot, anyway. I don’t know if BH is a person or a place, and even so? She had dementia for about a year before she died. At least that long. I...” He bit his lip. “If I say some other stuff... I’m not trying to unload on you guys.”

Erica didn’t resist the urge to hug him that time. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her head lightly against his. “You can tell us whatever you need or want to tell us.” She murmured. “We’ll listen. It’s not unloading, Stiles. Or if it is, then what the hell else are we here for?”

“My mom kind of started to lose it around the time I started kindergarten. Or at least, I think so. She didn’t trust the doctors that were supposed to take care of her, and wouldn’t go to the hospital for anything, after awhile. She died and I wasn’t so... I mean, I knew what it was. What had happened. But she had kind of warned me that I needed to look after myself. She hated cops, too. Sometimes, we would be in a store, and if a cop or even a security guard came in, she would just pick me up and we’d leave in a hurry. So when she died, I didn’t even say anything to anyone. I just went to school and came home. It was... I know it was gross and more than a little creepy, now. But I don’t think I’d do it any differently, knowing what happened after that.” Stiles muttered. “Sorry. You’re all trying to eat dinner and I’m retelling my Stephen King bullshit life over here.”

“Don’t apologize about that.” Erica told him, brushing a kiss to the side of his head. “I don’t know how I’d react in that situation. I wouldn’t have the first clue how to deal. You did the best you could do with what you knew and no one can fault you for that.”

“I don’t really know what to do now.” Stiles murmured. “It all sounds so stupid, laid out like this. Foster home after foster home and I got sick of that, sick of being treated like shit just because I wasn’t somebody’s biological kid. The last guy that was supposed to be taking care of me didn’t do shit to stop his son from...” He stopped, glancing up at Lydia and Isaac. “I’ve been through shit.” He muttered. “I was just a paycheck. I don’t think he’s even reported me missing, because that means he can’t collect money for me anymore. There are no amber alerts. No missing or runaway reports on the news. Nothing. I go to libraries and check the local paper out there, and I kept expecting to see my name. It hasn’t come up. So I’ve probably just been running for nothing. Stealing, and all the other stuff. For nothing.”

“What a fucking bastard.” Isaac muttered in disbelief, shaking his head. “Ballsy move, especially since he’s supposed to get checked up on while you’re there. He won’t be collecting money for long, if that’s what the shithead is doing. No, listen -” He told Stiles, turning toward him. “You’re staying with us for now. Maybe we can get a lead on your dad, maybe we can’t. If we can’t, then you’ll stay here, but if we do… Don’t think of what we give you as hand-outs, okay? Think of it as payback. I wouldn’t be with Lydia if it weren’t for you, and - well, just look at Erica’s face when she looks at you, man.”

Stiles glanced at Erica, a little perplexed. “What?”

“She’s never liked anyone as much as she likes you. Not as long as we’ve known her.” Lydia commented, smiling. “And if anyone tries to give you shit, I’ll tell them that I’m your guardian.” She blurted. “I can do that. I have a steady job and I’m in college. I can provide for you, if I have to.”

“And if someone presses the issue, I can’t be held accountable for the amount of violence I’ll inflict.” Erica added bluntly, smiling at him. “But seriously, I don’t take to too many people. These two were the last ones.” She pointed at Isaac and Lydia.

“Erica, you have tomorrow night off, don’t you?” Lydia nodded to her friend. “Maybe the four of us should go to Stanford? We can look up a lot of information there. Census records, that sort of thing. I bet we can find both of your parents tomorrow.” She told Stiles. “It’s at least worth a shot, isn’t it?”

Erica smiled at Stiles winningly. “It’s totally worth a shot.” She nodded, squeezing his arm. “At the very least, you’ll have answers.”

Stiles smiled back at Erica. “Okay.” He sat up straight, feeling more at ease as he started eating.

“And since I’m taking care of you...” Lydia said easily, smiling, “No more sex for money. No handjobs, no blowjobs. No stealing. No lying to the three of us. Tomorrow, we are going to try to find your dad, and then you’re getting new shoes and a haircut.” She planned on making him get new jeans, too. His were nearly threadbare.

“How am I supposed to pay you back?” Stiles frowned.

“You... aren't. You don’t owe me anything. Okay? We’ll find your dad and make sure he’s not a certifiable lunatic before we introduce you to him. And for your part, you won’t be riddled with sexually-transmitted diseases or bruises from horrible clientele.” Lydia said firmly.

Stiles felt like it was too much, but he was going to keep track and pay Lydia back for everything. Derek too, somehow.

*****

After dinner, Lydia left her friends and went to the drugstore, picking up a travel kit for Stiles. She threw the receipt away before she got back to the hostel, letting herself into the room and setting the bag on Stiles’ bed. “This is for you. A gift. No repayment. I see you doing calculations with your eyes. It has deodorant, body wash, shampoo, conditioner, a toothbrush and toothpaste. Everything you need.”

Stiles was too tired and full from dinner to do anything more than smile sleepily. “Okay.”

Lydia rubbed Stiles’ back until she was certain he was asleep. She turned and went to the closet, opening it and getting the duffel bag out. She knew she was violating his trust in doing this, but she didn't care. One shirt was dirty and had rips in the hem and sleeves. She set it aside and looked at the other shirt, too over-sized for Stiles. The slice of pizza went into the trash, and she unfolded the scrap of paper, reading over it before she got her cell phone and went into a common room down the hall, dialing Derek’s phone number.

Derek frowned down at the number that appeared on his cell phone. He glanced toward his family, gathered on the far end of the part of the Preserve that they owned, and then walked away quietly before he answered. “Who is this?”

“I’m Lydia.” Lydia smiled tensely. “I got your number and name from my friend’s duffel bag, Derek. He’s fine, he’s sleeping. He speaks highly of you. I thought you would want to know that he’s okay. He might panic later and try to run, but I’m doing what I can to prevent that.”

“Is he - has anything happened to him?” Derek asked softly. “Has he been eating? I ordered a pizza for him and he only took two pieces of it before he ran. I was hoping he'd -” he exhaled, trailing off. “Is he safe? Where he is, I mean?”

“He’s safe. And he’s been eating.” Lydia smiled, relieved that Stiles’ impression of Derek hadn’t been wrong. “I’m not sure what he told you, but we convinced him to talk to us a little. That’s myself and my friends, Erica and Isaac. We’ve been living in a hostel. It’s cheaper than paying rent out here. We’re going to try to help him locate his father.”

Derek blew out a soft, relieved breath. “Jesus. He wouldn’t tell me a word. Anything I tried to say, he deflected, and I didn’t want to push him too far. All he told me was that he wanted to head south, and…” Derek rubbed at his eyes. “Are you taking care of him, then? If you’re helping him find his father, are you - are you going to make sure he eats and keeps himself healthy?”

“Yes.” Lydia murmured. “I’m making him get new shoes tomorrow. Among other things. Do you want the address, to come visit him?”

Derek paused. “Would he want to see me?” He asked softly.

“I just told you. He talked about you a lot.” Lydia explained. “I think he’d like to see you again.”

Derek exhaled softly. “Okay. Yes. Give me the address. I don’t know when I’ll be able to come down, but I’m hoping in the next few days or so. Keep him with you, please.”

“I will.” Lydia smiled and gave him the address. We’re going to be at Stanford tomorrow, all four of us. Someone will be with him at all times, we won’t let him leave. We should be back to our room by seven o’clock. If you can make it tomorrow, of course. If not, we’ll see you when we see you. I’m going to try to find a way to get him a phone or something, so he can talk to you himself. I told him he’s not allowed to lie or sell himself anymore.”

“Thank you - Lydia, was it? Thank you.” Derek told her. “He’s had me worried. I gave him that number to get in touch with me if he needed anything. I should have told him to use it whenever he felt like it, but I don’t think he would have.”

“No, he probably wouldn’t have.” Lydia agreed. “And yes, it’s Lydia. I just refuse to let him argue with me or deflect. I told him that I’m appointing myself his legal guardian until we know for certain that his father can be trusted. Or that he’s even alive.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” Derek told her, smiling faintly. “Okay. I’m going to - I’m going to go gather my things and see if I can get to you guys, if I can get to where you are. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay.” Lydia smiled. “See you.” She hung up, saving Derek’s phone number in her phone and going back to the room.

Erica made a soft noise, sighing softly as she opened her eyes. “Lyds?” She yawned. “Where were you?”

“I was making a phone call.” Lydia murmured. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to wake you. Go back to sleep.” She started changing into pajamas, then brushed her hair.

“Mmkay.” Erica murmured, yawning again. “You, too. C’mere. Share with me.” She kicked her blanket back a little and scooted until she hit the wall. “I know you’ve got a bed, too, I don’t care.”

Lydia smiled and laid down beside Erica, gathering her hair in one hand to keep it out of both of their faces. “I could probably do all of this legally.” She murmured. “Take care of him and everything. If he lets me.”

“If he lets you.” Erica agreed sleepily. “But I bet you could wear him down. Hardly took any time at all for you to convince him to tell the truth.”

Lydia grinned, closing her eyes. She was a little worried that Stiles would be gone when she woke up, but she didn’t think he would get very far; she had taken the time to put his shoes in one of the lockers in the lobby.

Erica snuffled a little and shut her eyes as well. “I wanna keep him.” She murmured, smiling faintly.

“I know you do.” Lydia opened her eyes, looking at Erica. “We’re going to try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets Erica, Lydia and Isaac in San Francisco. They offer to help him find his biological father.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, is that all?” Stiles snorted, rolling his eyes. “Look, I like you. But I’m not going to apologize for feeling like I could take or leave just about anybody I’ve ever met. It’s who I am. If you can’t handle that, then that’s on you. Not me.”

Stiles woke up, sitting up and looking around the room, not daring to breathe until he knew for certain that he was safe. Once he remembered where he was and what he was doing there, he relaxed and climbed down from the bunk bed.

Isaac looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “How’d you sleep?” He asked, his head tilting to the side.

“Um. I’m... I slept.” Stiles shrugged. He eyed the closet nervously, remembering too late that his duffel bag was locked away inside and he didn’t have the key to unlock the closet door.

Lydia gave Stiles a knowing look. “Your duffel bag can wait until we go find your dad with you.” She started braiding her hair. “Get your travel kit that I bought you last night, go take a shower and brush your teeth. We’re going to Stanford today, shopping afterward when we get back here.”

“Shopping for what?” Stiles asked warily.

“Shoes. And clothes. We’ll do laundry this weekend, when we have time. We all just throw our stuff in together.” Lydia explained.

Erica sat up, her hair looking like a rat’s nest and her eyes bleary. “Kinky.” She blurted, blinking wide eyes at them. “Wonder if I’ll see any of my old professors on campus.” She grinned. “I mean, god knows I see them enough at the club.”

“Do you think I could pass for eighteen?” Stiles asked quietly.

“Sweetheart, you can’t even pass for fifteen.” Lydia snorted. “You’re not going to work with Erica. No offense, Erica. I respect your job, but not for a fifteen year old.”

Erica shrugged. “Fair enough.” She said. “I’ve been working there for two years, I’ve seen enough kids come walking through that door that had no business trying to work there at all.” She reached over and cupped Stiles’ face fondly. “Besides, I don’t want to see this sweet face stuck in that shithole.”

“So you were working there when you were sixteen?” Stiles wrapped a hand around one of Erica’s wrists and turned his head, kissing her palm.

Lydia smiled to herself, interrupting before Erica had a chance to answer. “Stiles, what do you think of doing this legally? We could go to the police, explain your situation, and we could both insist on me being your guardian.”

Stiles shook his head. “No. No cops, no legal... nothing. No new shoes, no new clothes. No haircut. Help me find my dad, and that’s it.”

Erica rubbed her thumb gently over Stiles’ lower lip, smiling faintly. “Oh, sweetie. The most surefire way to make sure that Lydia does the exact opposite of what you tell her to do is to tell her not to do it.”

Lydia nodded, shrugging. “Now I have to buy you two pairs of shoes.” She remarked, laughing. “I want you to trust the three of us, okay?” She stared at Stiles. “Go take a shower.” She waited for him to leave the room, then handed her locker key to Isaac. “Go get his shoes, please.”

Isaac saluted at her and took the key. “Yes, ma’am.” He smiled and left the room.

Lydia turned toward Erica. “I didn’t say this last night, but I called Derek. Stiles’ Derek. He’s going to come visit as soon as he can. I’m serious about taking care of Stiles, though. He needs someone. He needs to be in school. If he won’t accept me, he’ll just have to go with Derek.”

Erica stared at Lydia silently. “Okay.” She said softly. “I’m… I’m serious about wanting to keep him, but if he doesn’t want to stay, I won’t force him to. And if this Derek guy is someone that he’d rather be with… then, I guess… that’ll be that.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” Lydia sighed. “I’m not trying to send him away. I just want him to be comfortable.” She finished braiding her hair and pinned it up into place, then started putting her makeup on in the bathroom.

“Me, too.” Erica murmured, leaning against the wall. “He’s adorable, isn’t he? Such a cutie. And those big old eyes, god. I feel like I would throw away anything and just follow him around. I was so damn close to saying yes when he suggested leaving with him yesterday.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Lydia asked, watching Erica’s reflection in the mirror as she put her lipstick on. “I think we have to be careful with him, even now. For all that he did tell us, there’s probably a dozen stories he didn’t even mention. He’s had it rough. I’m not going to make it too much easier on him, either. But at least he’ll have opportunity for three meals a day.”

Erica nodded. “I just want him safe, that’s all. Crazy how protective I feel of that dude already. God.”

“Me too. I’m not very motherly, either.” Lydia muttered. “I don't normally give a shit if someone is feeling well, I just want them to do what the fuck I say, when I say it. And stay out of my way, otherwise.”

Erica grinned at her. “Yeah, we’re well aware of that, Red.” She teased, bumping against Lydia.

Lydia laughed. “Okay, come on. We’ll get breakfast on our way out and get to Stanford early enough that Isaac and I can help the two of you before our classes start. Don’t let Stiles leave, no matter what. Follow him into the bathroom if you have to.”

Erica’s eyes glinted mischievously. “I think I can come up with a few ways to keep him around.”

“Don’t get in trouble for indecent exposure.” Lydia advised, grinning.

*****

Stiles had been researching his mom’s records for more than an hour when he sighed and put his head down, frustrated. “This is pretty much getting me nowhere.”

Erica rubbed his back gently, setting her chin down on his shoulder. “I think we’re focusing too much on finding everything right now.” She murmured. “I didn’t think we’d be able to find your dad right away, you know?”

“No, but...” Stiles sighed. “I figured that whoever he was, he would have been in her life about maybe a year or less before I was born. Obviously. He’s not listed on my birth certificate, either. Nobody is. But she didn’t live with anyone, wasn’t married, nothing. There’s like... I mean, I could go ask people where she worked if they remember her, but I’m not stupid. It’s been like, sixteen years since he would’ve been there, if he even was there. And I don’t think anybody works a job for more than fifteen to twenty years, so even if... it’s just too much of a long-shot. Maybe I should just demand to have Lydia as my guardian. My dad’s probably dead.”

Erica sighed softly. “Don’t give up, okay? Don’t just say you think he’s dead and let that be it. There’s every chance that he’s alive, and he just never knew about you, and that’s why he’s never come to find you, Stiles. Maybe… maybe there just are some things we’ll have to go through legal avenues for. A blood test, or something… They can find people super fast once a blood test is done.” She looked thoughtful. “Maybe there’s a way we can do something legal… by doing it illegally?”

“I’m good with illegal.” Stiles smiled. “What do you mean?”

Erica smiled back at him. “Maybe we can break into a genetics lab or something.” She suggested, shrugging. “I don’t know anything about this shit, I don’t know if it’s possible, you know? But it could be worth a try.”

“What do we do?” Stiles bit his lip.

Erica pulled up a search on her phone, studying the screen with a furrowed brow. “Well… there’s a genetics lab in San Carlos… not that far away from here.” She grinned a little. “We could bust in there, get a blood sample or a hair sample or something off of you and then, maybe… I don’t know, drag Lydia in with us, hope to god that she knows how to study it, and then try and match it up to someone in a California database?”

“Well, that really is a long shot.” Stiles agreed. “Um, maybe. I just wish there was something more that I overlooked, you know? Letters or emails or something.”

Erica grimaced. “Well… Did your mom ever tell you about, like… a safety deposit box, or a p.o. Box or something where she might have kept important stuff?”

“Nah. But I was six.” Stiles reminded Erica. “She was paranoid as hell, anyway. She wouldn’t have kept anything where there were cameras. Maybe... maybe there’s something at the old house.”

“Do you still have a key or anything?” Erica asked him, looking excited.

Stiles smiled faintly and bent down, taking off one of his shoes and tugging a key out of the sole of it. “Lydia thinks my shoes are broken down because I just never got new ones. I have. I just break them myself. For this.”

Erica stared at him, and then laughed softly. “You’re either a genius or insane. You know they make socks now that have pockets in them just for that? For keys, I mean?”

“They do?” Stiles shrugged. “I don’t pay much attention to anything other than keeping myself from getting murdered.”

“Oh, honey.” Erica cupped his face in both hands, stroking his cheeks. She leaned forward and kissed him softly.

Stiles kissed back, sighing against Erica’s lips.

Erica smiled against his mouth, her hand reaching up to cup the back of Stiles’ head. She opened her mouth, trailing her tongue along his lower lip.

Stiles pulled back to look at Erica, smiling. “Do you think they’d be mad if we left now and went back to the hostel?”

Erica laughed quietly, standing up. “Probably would be, yeah. Luckily, I know a couple of places we can go.” She murmured, and tugged him up.

Stiles grinned as he followed Erica. “You really like my dick, huh?”

“Oh, cutie.” Erica grinned, taking his hand and tugging him behind her. “I really do.”

Stiles laughed, but smiled softly. “I like that I can be with you and just... just because I want to. Not for anything else.”

Erica grinned back at him, leaning forward to kiss him softly again. “I like it too, sweetie. I really kind of love being with you.”

Stiles blinked. “Yeah?” He blushed faintly.

Erica grinned and tugged him with her into an empty building. “Yeah.” She reassured him.

Stiles glanced around, then turned toward Erica and kissed her.

Erica wrapped her arms around him and dragged him close to her, pressing him against the closed door behind them.

Stiles unfastened his jeans and started kissing Erica’s neck.

Erica moaned, tilting her head back. She reached into his jeans, wrapping her fingers around him and stroking him slowly.

Stiles grinned and pushed Erica’s skirt up around her hips, lifting her as he thrust into her, shifting his weight a little to keep her against him.

Erica panted, wrapping her legs around his waist and hitching herself up to press her hands against the door. “Pin me,” she breathed out. “Pin me to the door.”

“Okay.” Stiles turned, pressing Erica’s back against the door. He put his hands on either side of her shoulders, shifting his hips a little to readjust their positions before he started thrusting into her again.

Erica groaned, cupping the back of Stiles’ head and holding him close to her. She clutched his arm with her other hand, digging her fingers into his arm deeply as she rolled her hips against his.

Stiles kissed Erica again, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He pulled away after a moment, looking at her. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He smiled crookedly. “You don’t have to say yes, it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

Erica grinned at him. “How could I ever say no to that?” She crooned, kissing him again.

Stiles curled one hand into a fist and raised a little in triumph, then immediately readjusted his stance to make sure he didn’t drop Erica. “Awesome.” He murmured.

Erica laughed, nuzzling her cheek against his before dropping her head and nibbling lightly at his neck.

“If I asked you to come with me, wherever my dad is, or... if we find him, I mean? Would you come with me?” Stiles tried not to look too hopeful, tried not to be too hopeful. He knew what happened when he thought things could be good for once.

Erica thought about it, thought about what she’d told Lydia earlier, and looked at Stiles, smiling down at him. “I’d have to talk to Lydia and Isaac, but… yeah. I’d definitely want to.”

Stiles grinned. “It’ll be good. I swear it will be.” He nodded. “I’ll learn to drive and I’ll get a job, and everything.”

“Mm.” Erica hummed, kissing his throat. “I’ll teach you the driving part. It’s easier than it seems.”

Stiles tilted his head back, closing his eyes. “Okay.”

Erica dragged her lips along his throat as she rolled her hips against his. “You’re so damn sweet.” She murmured against his cheek. “Everything about you is.”

“Not everything.” Stiles shook his head. “I’m going to get you off and then we’ll go find Lydia and Isaac, and then... we’ll figure out what to do after that.”

Erica laughed softly. “Okay. But we will figure it out.” She murmured, running her hand up his chest.

Stiles nodded, kissing Erica once more as he started thrusting harder into her, the door slamming in the frame with each roll of his hips.

“Oh my god,” Erica blurted, shutting her eyes and gasping, tightening her arms around him. “So good, you’re so good, Stiles,” she blurted.

Stiles groaned, startled and coming when someone knocked on the door from the other side and demanded to know who was in the room. He gave Erica an embarrassed smile and mouthed, ‘sorry,’ to her.

Erica giggled quietly, shaking her head. ‘It’s okay.’ She mouthed back, and then let out a small whimper as she wriggled down from his arms. She tugged her skirt back down, and then bent down to tug his pants back up, unable to resist leaning forward to mouth at his erection.

Stiles nearly fell forward, putting a hand on Erica’s shoulder to keep his balance. “You’re mean.” He whispered, laughing softly.

Erica laughed. “I know, but you like it.” She teased him, running a hand gently up his thigh.

Stiles nodded in agreement, zipping and fastening his jeans. “I like you.” He said easily, opening the door to a confused professor. “Sorry. Nice place.” He winked at the woman, stepping past her and into the hallway.

Erica grinned and rubbed her thumb over the corner of her mouth before popping it between her lips. She winked at the professor as she passed her. “Hey, Professor Zawisza.” She greeted, strutting after Stiles quickly.

“Well, I never!” The professor blurted, staring after them.

Stiles turned around to face her as he kept walking, moving backward. “Maybe you should once in awhile, then.”

Erica snorted, hurrying ahead. “Oh, god, come on, come on.” She laughed, hurrying Stiles along with her.

Stiles laughed as he walked with Erica. “It doesn’t matter what anybody has between their legs, they’re all horny and they all want to get laid. Even the ones who say they don’t.”

Erica wrapped her hand around his, smiling. “So, so true. But they’re all prudish bastards about it, anyway.”

Lydia called Erica’s phone, trying not to worry too much about the fact that she couldn’t find Stiles or Erica in the library, where she had left them.

Erica glanced down and picked up her phone. “Uh-oh.” She blurted. “Shit.” Answering the phone, she held it up to her ear. “Hey, Lyds.” She greeted. “We got bored and, uh… ‘took a walk’ around the campus.”

“Whose classroom did you have sex in?” Lydia asked, laughing.

Erica grinned. “Zawisza’s.” She admitted. “She got all scandalized. No heart attack, though.”

“Well, come back to the library.” Lydia smiled. “I think I found something that might interest Stiles.”

“Oh?” Erica blurted, straightening. She looked at Stiles. “Lydia says she thinks she found something and to head back to the library.” She tugged on his hand. “Let’s move.”

Stiles nodded and started running. He was out of breath and ignoring the angry murmuring around him as he caught up to Lydia. “What did you find? Where did you find it? How did you find it?”

“I checked the address you lived at in Reno against local churches, for any weddings planned for Claudia Wronski. There was one, but it never happened. The groom listed is John Stilinski. It’s not much to go on, but it’s a start.” Lydia murmured.

Stiles frowned. “Okay, but my mom kept muttering about ‘BH,’ before she died. I didn’t understand it when I was a kid, and I don’t get it now. I did try going to some towns that had those initials, but I didn’t recognize anything. So who or what is ‘BH?’”

“Let’s find John Stilinski and see what he knows, first.” Lydia suggested. “And then we’ll get you some clothes and new shoes, and have dinner. And then we’ll see what happens tomorrow, okay?”

Stiles sighed, but nodded. “Okay.” He didn’t feel like waiting that long. After a moment of fidgeting, he frowned again. “No. I want to do this my way. We’ll look up every John Stilinski in the country and see if we can find my dad. This John guy might not even be my dad. If we haven’t tracked down the one that knew my mom after an hour of the four of us making phone calls, you can buy me one pair of jeans. That’s it. I don’t need new shoes, I don’t want new shoes. Oh, and um, some underwear. One pack of it, though.” He looked a little embarrassed. “And then dinner.”

Lydia tilted her chin up, not wanting to give in so easily. “An hour of calls, two pairs of jeans, a pack of underwear and a pack of socks. Dinner and dessert, and then we’ll go to the nearest police station to get that other stuff dealt with.”

Stiles held his hand out for her to shake. “Deal.”

Isaac grinned, and then promptly covered his smile with his hand. “Okay. So that’s decided. Next thing we can do is look up every person in the flipping country that might be the guy you’re looking for, and we can narrow it down to anyone who might have ever lived in Reno at some point.”

“I was kind of thinking we could go to Reno.” Stiles glanced at Erica and smiled, then looked back at Lydia and Isaac. “I still have the key for my old house. It’s the one thing I’ve kept from back then. I know someone else could live there now, but I’m sort of hoping that even if they do, they don’t know about my mom’s hiding places for things.”

Erica smiled back at Stiles, and then nodded at the other two. “It wouldn’t be the first time that people who used to live in their old houses have shown up to see it again. Stiles just might be the youngest. It’s a legitimate idea, especially if his mom had some papers hiding somewhere that might explain who Stiles is, who his father is. Why he was never there.”

“And you know about the hiding places?” Lydia was already trying to figure out how much four bus tickets to Reno would cost.

Stiles nodded. “I think I remember a few of them, anyway. Loose floorboards and stuff like that.”

Isaac rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It’s definitely worth a shot.” He murmured. “At the very least, it could give us a lead, if not a big one.”

“I’ll go make some phone calls.” Lydia nodded, walking away. She dialed Derek’s number, sighing to herself. She had a feeling that if the situation was reversed, she would already be annoyed with him for these last-minute changes. “Hi, Derek.”

“Lydia?” Derek furrowed his brow as he replied. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. We’ve made some progress in finding Stiles’ dad. Or at least, a name for him. Allegedly. Stiles wants to go to Reno, where he lived with his mom. He has a house key for the place they were living and thinks his mom hid things in the house. Do you want to meet us there, or should we wait for you and have you come with us? Are you on your way now?” Lydia frowned at herself for the barrage of questions.

“I can be.” Derek replied after a moment’s hesitation. “I mean - you can go ahead, and I can catch up with you. I haven’t left yet.”

“Okay. I’ll text you the address when I get it.” Lydia murmured. “If nobody is there, we’ll probably just crash there for at least one night. Sorry that this keeps changing. I think he’s convinced himself that staying anywhere more than two days is asking for trouble. I’m trying to break him of that.”

“That sort of programming takes a while to break.” Derek said quietly. “My cousin went through the same thing, basically, after her mother died. Before my uncle could find her. It’s… foster homes. Sometimes it just… doesn’t sit well with some people.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “I’ll be there. I’ll find you guys, just - like I said, Lydia, take care of him.”

“I will. I think I can convince him to wait until later tonight, to leave. That buys you some time.” Lydia murmured. “Take care, Derek.” She hung up and walked back over to her friends. “Okay. Let’s try to find this guy.”

Stiles gave Lydia a wary look. “Who were you talking to?”

“A friend of mine.” Lydia said lightly. “Sit down and start googling.”

“No.” Stiles shook his head. “You want me to be honest with you, that has to go both ways. Who was on the phone?”

“Derek.” Lydia sighed. “Stiles, you know -”

Stiles shook his head again. “No. It’s not - how do you know him? You got into my bag? Or did you know him before? Are you, are all of you following me around?” He laughed at how that sounded, thinking of his mom as he turned and hurried out of the library.

“Shit,” Erica muttered, and raced after him quickly. “Stiles. Stiles, stop. Please, just stop?”

“Why?” Stiles turned around, facing Erica. “Look, I know that by the end of it, my mom had really lost her mind. But that doesn’t mean that people don’t do this. I was... there was a guy in New Jersey that said he could only give me a ride to this town not far from where we were. The next guy that picked me up, he tried to say he never did this sort of thing, but I found pictures in his glovebox when he stopped for gas. He did ‘this sort of thing’ a lot. And I got the fuck out of there because I knew that if I didn’t, I’d probably be sold to the highest bidder or something. Is that what you guys are doing? Are you... I mean, Lydia, with her clothes and me needing a haircut, and making me eat more? What is this?”

“We’re just - we’re trying to take care of you, that’s it!” Erica told him. “We want to help you find your dad, and - regardless of how it turns out, if you end up staying with him, or if you end up staying with us, we just - Stiles, you have no idea how quickly I’ve become protective of you. This isn’t a game, we aren’t doing this to mess with you. Lydia found Derek’s number, and - I kind of thought it was a good idea, because you talked about him like he - like you trusted him, a little? And if you trusted him, then… then maybe having him around, to help with this whole thing, with finding your dad - it could be a good thing. You know?” She exhaled softly.

Stiles sighed and shook his head. “I need to leave. You guys don’t have to help me. It’s not that I’m not grateful, but this... I said too much. All right? Jesus.”

“If you leave, I’ll report you.” Lydia spoke softly, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to, Stiles. But I will. Because someone needs to be looking out for you, and if you won’t let us do it, then you’re going to have a very hard time doing anything. I called Derek because, like Erica said, you seemed to trust him. To like him. And I know I made the right decision because he’s been worried about you. He wants to see you again, just to know that you’re okay. He’s been asking me, only in the two times we’ve had conversations, last night and just now, to keep you safe. And I told him I would. And I want to. But if that means having you put into police custody, then that’s what I’ll do. Can you just trust me to help you find your dad? You don’t have to stay any longer than it takes to find him and make sure he’s not someone shady, if you don’t want to.”

“No more lies?” Stiles stared at Lydia.

“No more lies.” Lydia agreed. “I wasn’t doing it to hurt you. I think you know that.”

Erica took a deep breath, tentatively reaching for Stiles’ hand. “Please. Just… give us the chance, at least just to find your dad.”

Isaac peered at them all, folding his arms over his chest. To Stiles, he said, “You might as well agree. They’re just going to keep at you until you do, and it’s either stay with us, or… and this is the extreme… go into police custody and probably end up back in foster care.” He shrugged. “I don’t think you want that.”

“I don’t want that.” Stiles agreed. “But I’m not telling any of you shit from here on out. You can do whatever the fuck you want, since you’re just going to do that anyway. As soon as I get a real lead on this, I’m gone.” He strode past them, going back into the library and sitting down at a computer to start looking for John Stilinski. He hadn’t missed the connection between his first name and this other man’s last name.

“Yeah, well, we’re probably following you anyway.” Isaac told him bluntly. “You won’t need to tell us shit, we’ll legit just find you again.” He sat down at another computer. “And if I find the information first, I’m going to be a dick and keep it from you until you agree to cooperate with us.” He smiled brightly.

“Isaac.” Lydia shook her head at him.

“Yeah, Lydia.” Stiles smirked. “Keep him on a short leash.” He grimaced when he realized that the other three had cell phones and he didn’t.

Lydia set her phone down in front of Stiles. “Text Derek and tell him to help you search for John Stilinski.” She advised. “I’ll just keep finding phone numbers while you make calls.”

“This doesn’t mean I trust you.” Stiles muttered, texting Derek. ‘Hey, this is Batman. I need some help, if you don’t mind?’

Isaac grunted. “Whatever.” He shook his head and went back to work.

Derek replied to Stiles immediately. ‘Of course. Anything. What do you need me to do?’

‘I’m trying to find John Stilinski. Lydia found out that my mom was engaged to the guy and they were supposed to get married in Reno, but they never did.’ Stiles explained. ‘So even if he’s not my biological dad, he might at least know who the guy is.’

Derek didn’t respond right away, but when he did, it was with hesitance. ‘... There’s a John Stilinski here. Where I live. He’s the sheriff in town.’

“No shit?!” Stiles blurted, rolling his eyes when some other people shushed him. “Hey, fuck you, this is important.” He called Derek, getting out of his chair and waving to Lydia to indicate that he was taking her phone outside with him. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Derek answered, smiling a little. “Yeah, um… John Stilinski’s been the sheriff here for about the last five years. He got elected when I was… god, um, seventeen, I think. My family is pretty good friends with him.”

“I was out there for three days and didn’t even know who I was looking for.” Stiles shook his head in disbelief. “Jesus. Okay. Do you think... do you think I should come back there, then? I mean, being friends with somebody doesn’t mean they’re a good parent, right? Maybe he’s an asshole. Or he hurt my mom or something. Maybe he’s why she didn’t like cops.”

Derek paused, and then cleared his throat. “Um. He’s been a cop for about twenty years. I know that’s not saying much, but I’m pretty sure he has an elected position, and if he did anything, like abuse a woman, he wouldn’t have been elected to sheriff. You can - don’t go to Reno. Um. Stay there, stay in Palo Alto for a little bit longer, at least a day longer. It’ll give me enough time to ask him - unless you want to come to Beacon Hills, and ask him yourself?”

“I can be on a bus out there tonight.” Stiles blurted. “I can’t afford another night here, anyway. I can’t even afford the bus ride, but I’ll figure out something. Okay? I’ll come to you.”

“Stay with the others.” Derek said firmly. “They’ll bring you out here, alright? You need to trust them, I really think they have your best interests at heart. I wouldn’t screw you over, Stiles. At least one of them has to have a car, right?”

Stiles blinked. “She told you my name, huh? Un-fucking-believable. No, I don’t think they drive. They’ve been taking a train from San Francisco to Palo Alto. Just let me handle it my own way. I’ll be out there sometime tonight.” He hung up and brought the phone back in, setting it down by Lydia. “I’m going to need my duffel bag out of the closet. It’s not even mine, it belongs to Derek and I’m giving it back to him. You’re not buying me clothes. You can get me a bus ticket, but if you’re going to refuse to do that unless I do ninety other things you want me to do, you can forget it.” He looked at Erica. “Come with me? Or don’t. I don’t care.”

Erica blinked at him, looking mildly hurt. “You don’t care?” She repeated. Glancing at Lydia and Isaac, she licked her lips, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come with you.”

Isaac looked at Lydia. “Might as well get him that duffel bag. If he wants out, he wants out.” Looking at Erica, he narrowed his eyes. “You need to be careful. I mean, really careful.”

Lydia bit her lip. She didn’t like this, but she knew she didn’t have much of a choice. She got money out of her purse and handed it to Erica. “That should cover two bus tickets. Don’t hitch.”

Erica nodded, taking the money. “Promise.” She said softly and turned toward the doorway. “We’ll need to go back to the hostel before we go anywhere else, if you want your bag.” She told Stiles, walking past him.

Stiles waved a hand at Lydia and Isaac, then caught up to Erica. “Thanks.” He murmured.

“Yeah.” Erica replied, sighing. “No problem. If we time this right, we can be back on the train to San Francisco, and then taking the one to Chico in, like, the next hour or something. We might have to hitch a cab from Chico to - where the hell are we going, again?”

“Beacon Hills.” Stiles bit his lip. “I’ll get us a ride from Chico to there, though. A good one. I’ll call Derek. Unless Lydia threw his number away, it’s still in my duffel bag. His duffel bag, actually. You seem like you don’t want to do this. You don’t have to. Just get the bag for me and I’ll go alone. It’s fine.”

Erica shot Stiles a glare. “I’m not leaving you alone. I’m going with you. If it’s all the same to you, since you don’t care whether I go or not.” She headed toward the hostel, then stopped, putting a hand over her eyes. “Call Derek, get him to wait for us. I’ll order the tickets, we’ll get your bag, and you’ll be in Beacon Hills in no time.”

“Well, I can’t call Derek until I get that number and borrow your phone.” Stiles frowned at Erica. “Why are you acting like I curb-stomped a kitten in front of you, anyway?”

“Because you freaking hurt my feelings.” Erica replied bluntly. “I’m still willing to help you, but, you know, getting told that you don’t care whether or not I come along when I said I would kind of sucks.”

“Oh, is that all?” Stiles snorted, rolling his eyes. “Look, I like you. But I’m not going to apologize for feeling like I could take or leave just about anybody I’ve ever met. It’s who I am. If you can’t handle that, then that’s on you. Not me.”

“I can’t handle that.” Erica muttered. “It’s fucking rare for me to even put myself out there for a friendship, and you asked me to be your girlfriend.” She shook her head. “It’s whatever. Maybe I shouldn’t have said yes, that is on me. I’ll still come with you. If you even want me to now, but I guess I’ll be coming straight back to San Francisco afterward.”

“Okay.” Stiles shrugged. “Like you said, though. It’s whatever.”

“Yeah.” Erica muttered, then sighed. “Come on. Duffel bag, train station. Let’s at least make sure that you’ve got the chance to meet your possible-dad.” She started walking.


	5. Back to Beacon Hills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles held up his index finger to tell Derek to give him a minute, then turned toward Erica and kissed her cheek. “You know I’m grateful to you, right?”
> 
> Erica nodded slowly, exhaling softly, leaning into the kiss. “Yeah.” She said quietly. “I know.” She blinked rapidly. “You’d better give me your damn number and keep in contact with me.”

Stiles got off the bus in Chico, clutching Derek’s duffel bag. He looked around for the older man, rubbing his eyes sleepily. The ride from San Francisco had felt even longer, since Erica was still angry with him. He didn’t feel like trying to make her feel better, and he knew that made him an asshole.

Derek straightened from his position, leaning against a sleek black Camaro and smiled faintly, holding a hand up in greeting.

Erica stared at Derek with wide, blinking eyes. “That’s Derek?” She exhaled. Looking at Stiles, she looked down, folding her arms over her chest. “I guess I’ll be seeing you, then. Or not.”

Stiles held up his index finger to tell Derek to give him a minute, then turned toward Erica and kissed her cheek. “You know I’m grateful to you, right?”

Erica nodded slowly, exhaling softly, leaning into the kiss. “Yeah.” She said quietly. “I know.” She blinked rapidly. “You’d better give me your damn number and keep in contact with me.” She told him, forcing a weak smile. “You know, once you get one.”

Stiles grinned at her. “I will.” He nodded. “I’ll get Lydia’s number from Derek and make sure she gives you mine.” He hugged Erica, then walked over to Derek. “Hey. Nice car.”

Derek’s lips twitched. “Thanks.” He murmured, and then moved forward hesitantly, reaching for Stiles.

Stiles took a couple of steps toward Derek, smirking slowly as he kissed him.

Derek faltered, but kissed Stiles back slowly, laughing quietly. “I was just going for a hug, but okay.” He wound his arms around Stiles, tugging him close and kissing him once more.

“I just figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun, right?” Stiles shrugged one shoulder. “So, what’s this guy like? Other than ‘nice’ and ‘not an asshole.’”

Derek snorted. “He’s a hardass. No nonsense. Great cop, he’s very thorough on everything he does. I should tell you, though… um… He has a girlfriend. Just so it doesn’t come as a shock.”

“Well, it’s not like I expected the guy to be celibate or something.” Stiles muttered. “But thanks for the warning. We should get going, yeah? Probably too late tonight for me to drop in on him. I’ll do it in the morning. And I still owe you money, I haven’t forgotten about that. I owe Lydia some, too. Even though you both say I don’t.”

Derek put a hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, settling it there gently. “We’ll worry about that later. Come on. You’re staying with me for the night.” He opened the passenger side door for Stiles, taking the duffel from him and tossing it into the backseat.

Stiles grinned as he got into the car and fastened his seatbelt. He wasn’t so sure about John Stilinski or anything else, but he figured he could at least have fun with Derek for a while and then move on again if he needed to.

Derek climbed into the driver’s side, and smiled over at Stiles. “It’s good to see you.” He said. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah.” Stiles snorted. “It’s been like, two days. But I’m glad to see you, too.” He nodded.

Derek grinned and started the car up, pulling out of his spot and driving onto the road. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” Stiles murmured. He clasped his hands together to avoid fidgeting. “Uh, thanks again for this. Erica’s pissed off at me, Lydia’s annoyed and Isaac is... well, Isaac’s an asshole and I don’t care what he thinks, really.”

Derek glanced at him. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He frowned. “It kinda - from the little I spoke with Lydia, it seemed like they were really determined to help you.” He shook his head. “Alright, well, that’s done with, I guess. And it’s no problem, really. I don’t mind helping you. Whatever you need.”

“A sack of money and a cell phone.” Stiles muttered, then looked up at Derek. “No, don’t. Neither of those. I’ll figure this out, okay? If you hadn’t given me a ride, I’d have walked or hitched, whatever. I can take care of myself. I’m done with people thinking that I can’t.”

“I know you can take care of yourself.” Derek replied idly. “I didn’t say you couldn’t. But there’s nothing wrong with accepting help when you can. You don’t have to do everything alone.” He paused, and then smiled. “As I’m constantly reminded by my own family members.”

Stiles bit his tongue and decided not to mention that Derek having family members in the first place made their situations very different. “Yeah.” He said finally, looking out the window.

Derek hesitated, seemingly understanding that he’d sort of overstepped. He set a hand gently on Stiles’ knee. “Sorry.” He murmured. “It’s… I’m sorry. It’ll be okay.”

“I’m just a fucking ball of sunshine.” Stiles muttered. “Don’t worry about it, Derek.”

“Okay.” Derek murmured quietly. “Just… if you need to say anything, talk about anything, whatever, I’m here.”

“I know.” Stiles nodded. “Hey, do you wanna have sex with me again tonight?”

Derek glanced at him. “You don’t mind that I’m five years older than you?” He asked. “Really? I mean… I know there was no problem last time. I still don’t plan to say anything. But… Yeah, I do.”

“Good. And no, your age doesn’t bug me. I’m probably going to seriously turn you off when I say this, but you’re probably the youngest guy I’ve done anything with in the past few months. And you’re the only one of them that I’ve wanted to.” Stiles shrugged. “This guy, John? If he’s my dad, I mean, he’s probably going to fucking hate me, right? Because despite all of this, I still don’t think what I’m doing is all that wrong. I only had sex for money a couple of times, mostly it was just to get a ride somewhere. So we both got something out of it.”

“I don’t think he’ll hate you. I don’t really know how he’ll react, we haven’t said a word to him.” Derek glanced over at Stiles. “But I figure, at the least, some of his instincts are going to go haywire, and he’ll probably freak out about the sex for money thing. But in the end, he might just be really happy to know you’re around. If he’s the right John Stilinski, I mean.”

“And if he’s not... well, I guess I’ll just try again somewhere else. Or go back to San Francisco with like, a dozen roses for Erica. And Lydia.” Stiles laughed. “No idea how I’ll afford those, either.”

Derek grinned faintly. “Well, you’re more than welcome to stay with me, if you want.” He offered.

“Yeah?” Stiles smiled back. “Yeah, maybe I will, then.” He yawned. “Okay, what the fuck? It’s like you coat your passenger seats in Rohypnol or something.” He teased.

Derek snorted. “Maybe that is what I do, to get attractive teenage boys like you loose and willing.” He murmured.

“Makes sense.” Stiles grinned. “Except you don’t have to resort to that shit with me. I have two eyes.”

A low laugh escaped Derek’s lips, and he shot Stiles a mock-affronted look. “Is that all? My looks are what hooked you? I didn’t know you could be that superficial.” He teased.

“Does it still count as ‘looks’ if I’m talking about your ass?” Stiles winked. “Because that’s what actually got my attention.”

Derek shook his head in amusement. His fingers stretched, spreading his palm across Stiles’ thigh. “Sounds good enough to me.” He said, glancing at the younger man and blatantly moving his fingers toward the inside of Stiles’ thigh.

Stiles trailed his fingers up and down the inside of Derek’s forearm, smiling. “I liked fucking you the other night, you know? I would have stayed. I probably should have. But hindsight.” He snorted. “That didn’t even... whatever, you know what I meant.”

“Vaguely,” Derek laughed quietly, rubbing his fingers over the inseam of Stiles’ jeans. He glanced out of the windshield, and then back at Stiles. “Here.” He murmured, shifting back a little. “Rest your head on my lap and spread your legs.”

Stiles nodded, unfastening his seatbelt and stretching out across the front seat, one of his legs pressing against the door while the other was closer to the drink holders.

Derek started with his hand on Stiles’ head, stroking over his hair gently before trailing down to the teen’s chest. He trailed his fingers over Stiles’ chest and stomach, moving down to the hem of his shirt and rucking it up a little, keeping his gaze on the road. He didn’t move down to Stiles’ pants, content to keep stroking the bits of skin that he could touch immediately as a way to entice the teen.

Stiles’ eyes closed, but he tried to stay awake. “That’s nice.” He murmured. “You’re so freaking nice.”

Derek huffed a laugh, smiling. “Sleep, Stiles.” He said quietly. “We won’t be long. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“Okay.” Stiles drifted off to sleep a moment later.

Derek slowed his stroking and wrapped his arm around Stiles’ upper torso, holding the younger man as close as he dared as he continued driving.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles sat down on the couch, lost in thought. He could stay, but he didn’t have to. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now. “I think I understand how Galahad felt.” He muttered.
> 
> “Galahad?” John looked confused. “Like, the knight?”
> 
> “Yeah. Uh, the Holy Grail?” Stiles glanced at Derek. “I got that right, didn’t I? Anyway. I don’t know what to do now. I always wondered who my dad was and now I’ve found him and like... now what the fuck am I doing?”

Stiles studied his reflection in the mirror the next morning, trying to see himself the way he figured a cop might see him. “I think I need a new face.” He muttered. “One that looks less ‘I hate cops’ and a little more ‘innocent bystander.’”

Derek came up behind him, his darker features and somewhat perpetual scowl a firm contrast to Stiles’ expression. “Well, you’re already miles ahead of me.” He pointed out. “You look like you can’t wait to be a cop compared to me.”

Stiles laughed. “Derek, I’ve known you like, three days. And I know that’s just your face. He’s a friend of your family’s, he knows you.” He turned toward Derek and kissed him. “Come on, Grumpy. You can drive me to wherever this guy is. Hopefully, not the station. But I’ll deal, if that’s where we have to go. The idea of being surrounded by cops makes my skin crawl, though.”

“Mmm.” Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles, holding the younger man closer. “That might just be latent paranoia from the cops you had to deal with in Reno. Beacon Hills is much better, I promise.” He lowered his head to Stiles’ neck, nipping lightly at the skin. “He’s off today, so he’s probably home. Which is lucky, anyway. Come on.” He moved his hand down to Stiles’ hip and tugged him along.

Stiles smiled and followed Derek. “You don’t like cops either, do you?”

Derek pressed his lips together. “My sister went missing a few years back. Boyfriend of hers that wouldn’t take no for an answer, and apparently still lived in the damn middle ages. He thought kidnapping her made her his, would make her want to marry him.” He furrowed his brows. “Somehow, some of the cops assumed that I was aiding and abetting. That I encouraged the bastard to steal her away, like she was a piece of meat, or a prize. Didn’t occur to them who exactly they were accusing of something like that. My mother’s the DA. Accusing me of basically getting rid of my sister was basically accusing her, our family, of wrong-doing.”

“And this is a nice town?” Stiles muttered. “Okay. Maybe I’ll fit in here better than I thought, after all.” He was quiet on the drive, staring at all of the houses and wondering who lived in each one, what their lives were like.

Derek shrugged. “I said this place was better than Reno. I didn’t really say by how much.” He murmured, pulling into the Sheriff’s driveway. He stopped the car, and then looked at Stiles for a long moment. “This is it.”

Stiles got out of the car before he could talk himself out of it, only glancing back to make sure he had shut the door properly before he walked up to the front door. He cleared his throat and knocked.

John opened the door slowly, poking his head around the corner curiously before opening it all the way. He straightened, gazing at Stiles. “Hello?”

“Hi. This is kind of a weird... does the name Claudia Wronski mean anything to you, by chance?” Stiles had gone over how this would happen a hundred times, in his head. It was never like this. He hoped he didn’t sound like an idiot.

John’s mouth opened and he inhaled sharply. “I… yes. Yes it does.” He murmured, staring at Stiles a little harder. “I - she was my - but…” He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. “Why?”

“I’m her son. Possibly your son?” Stiles hesitated. “I probably should have asked you to sit down or something, first.”

“Would’ve been nice.” John blurted, stumbled a little into the doorway. He drew a hand over his mouth, exhaling heavily. “Come - come in.” He said softly. “Come in, have a seat. Let’s - we need to talk, obviously.”

Stiles turned and waved to Derek, then stepped into the house, looking around. “Do you have other kids? Or I mean, assuming I am one. Do you have kids?”

John shook his head. “No. I never… Claudia was the only one I’d ever wanted them with.” He said quietly. “She never even… She never told me that she - that she was - how old are you?”

“Fifteen. I turned fifteen about two months ago. Almost three months, now.” Stiles explained. “I wasn’t born early or late or anything, either. If that matters.” He tucked his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from touching anything.

John put his head in his hands, staring down at the floor. “The last time I saw Claudia was mid-April. That was… Nineteen-ninety-four. She… We were engaged. Ready to get married, and then she just… left. Never even left a note, not one that I saw, anyway. I never knew where she’d gone, or if she was okay, or… or if she was alive, even.” He looked at Stiles. “Is she with you? Where is she?”

“She died nine years ago.” Stiles grimaced. “I’m not any good at this stuff. I didn’t even know your name until yesterday.”

John nodded slowly, looking down. “It’s alright. I just… I’m sorry to hear that she’s…” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” Stiles sighed. “Okay, well... I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now. The closest I’ve ever gotten to this is like, Maury Povich. They just announce whether the guy is the dad or not and then that’s it. You think they go out for ice cream after?” He snorted.

John echoed the snort. “Must be a reason why they don’t show that shit on tv. Can’t let everyone believe there’s a happily ever after to be had.” He exhaled and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Alright. Well… Just turned fifteen years old, huh? So… January. Beginning of January? Timing would be about right.” He sighed. “Near as I can figure… next step would be a blood test.” He looked up at Stiles. “If you’re willing.”

“Needles freak me out, but they can do that cotton swab thing, right?” Stiles shrugged. “I’ve, um... Look, you’re going to get to know me a little more and you’re not going to like me, so let’s just get that out of the way right now. I was in foster care until my birthday and that was particularly shitty, so I bailed. I’ve been looking for myself in amber alerts, and there’s nothing. Probably because me not being there means he won’t get money for me each month. I’ve been on my own since then, not that I was really...” He bit his lip and shook his head, snorting again when he realized he hadn’t even given the man his name. “Jesus. Okay. Can I start over?”

John was staring at Stiles, his lips trembling in a wide grin. “Jesus. Yeah. Yeah, you can. Christ, now I know you’re Claudia’s kid. Woman had a motormouth like nothing I’d ever seen.” The words were said with so much heartache and affection that John found himself furiously wiping at his eyes, even as he laughed.

Stiles smiled back tentatively. “Okay.” He murmured, thinking. “Mom had dementia. I didn’t know it until a few years after she died, when one of my foster parents decided to tell me. To be a dick, basically. But she had been kind of paranoid around the time I started kindergarten. More than once, I had to get myself to school and come home and take care of her. But I’m not bitter about it. She needed help and I didn’t know how to get it for her. It’s okay. I just knew that she didn’t like cops, she made a big deal out of that. And I already know that you are one. I think maybe she kept me from you because she had already started to lose it a little. Anyway, I didn’t tell anyone when... when she died. Because I just thought that would be bad. I had to get a signature on a report card and I tried signing it myself.” He smiled softly. “They caught on that something was up when they got it back and I had printed ‘Mom Wronski’ in big letters. I’m not even sure why I’m telling you this. I just... I’ve been on my own, and I’m okay. So I don’t need anything from you, even if you do turn out to be my dad.”

John didn’t comment on that. He inhaled for a brief moment, then said, “If you don’t want my help, then you don’t. There’s nothing I can do about that. I gotta figure you’ve been on your own long enough, and that’s gotta have sucked, and lord knows that the damn foster program probably leaves a lot to be desired, at least with some foster parents.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for what happened to your mom. I loved her. I really did. I wish I knew why she left, but I also knew her. If she didn’t want to be found, then there was no finding her. She’d have belted me and called the cops on me herself if I’d tried to follow.” He trailed off, looking out of his front window for a moment. “How about… How about we just, um. Start with names, and that DNA test, hmm? You already know my name. I could call you son, I guess, but… if you aren’t really my kid, that might be awkward. And, uh… I got a buddy down at forensics that might be able to help us out.”

“Right. That was why I started over...” Stiles trailed off. “My first name is kind of impossible to pronounce, even for me. Starts with an M and was apparently my grandpa’s first name, too. Some Polish thing with twenty consonants in a row or whatever it is.” He shrugged. “She, um, she called me Stiles. So that’s what I’ve always gone by.”

John stared at him. “Jesus, she really did, she went with her dad’s name. She threatened me with that name, if we ever had a kid together.” He blinked. “Stiles - Stiles. Okay.” He nodded. “We can go with Stiles.”

“I think it’s sort of her way of naming me after you, anyway?” Stiles shrugged. “I know you want the actual proof that we’re related, but this is kind of enough for me. You’re the guy she was going to marry, she wasn’t with anyone else in that time you were together, I pretty much have to be your son.”

John kept staring at Stiles, smiling a little bit sadly. “That’s good enough for me, too.” He said softly. “Maybe not for some people, though. It’s okay if you don’t end up staying with me or anything, but I want to at least make sure that someone doesn’t see you, take your age into account, and then try to drag you right back into foster care.”

Stiles nodded. “Okay.” He looked around again, trying not to think about what life would have been like for him, growing up there. Daydreaming wouldn’t help.

John cleared his throat. “So. Uh.” He peered out the window at the driveway. “You know Derek Hale, huh?”

“Yeah, we’re friends.” Stiles smiled.

“Yeah?” John nodded. “Good, that’s - good. Derek’s a good guy. Did he - help you find me?”

“Yeah, he did. I mentioned your name and he said he knew you, and I figured if it wasn’t you, I’d go looking for someone else with the same name.”

“Well… I’m glad you came here, first.” John said. “Anyone else you mentioned Claudia’s name to probably would’ve looked at you like you were nuts, or lied to you outright.”

“Yeah, probably.” Stiles muttered. “I’ve dealt with plenty of that shit before. Crap. Sorry.”

John waved a hand at him, shaking his head. “It’s fine. Nothing I haven’t heard before, and I gotta figure you’ve been through a half-ton more shit than I have. You reserve the right to use whatever word you want.”

Stiles smiled. “Thanks. But I’ll try to be careful, anyway. I’ve kind of developed a guttermouth.”

John grinned back faintly. “That’s - yeah, like I said, you sort of reserve the right to. But yeah, we’ll work on it.” He paused. “If you want to, I mean. With me. You don’t have to. Uh, really, I’m not going to try and ‘dad’ you when we’ve barely known each other for five minutes.”

“Thanks. Again.” Stiles nodded. He faltered, not sure what to do next.

John looked lost as well, looking around the room and clearing his throat. “Uh. Do you - want something to drink, or eat, or… I mean, I think I’ve - well, if you want to, I think I’ve got some pictures of your mom from when we were together, if you want to look at them?”

“Maybe later?” Stiles murmured. “Um, I mean, I do want to see them. Should I tell Derek to come in, or would that make this weirder?”

John nodded. “Yeah, he can come in, um…” He paused. “Well, unless you don’t feel comfortable? I don’t want to keep you here if you don’t want to be. Unless you do, I mean, I just…” He trailed off, exhaling. “I’m sorry, I just...I don’t know how to - with kids, or teens? I mean, I can interact with them and everything, but none of them have ever… been mine. My girlfriend has a son about your age, but he isn’t… He isn’t mine, you know?”

Stiles nodded back. “I’m not that complicated. Not really. I mean, I get offended by some shit, yeah. But that’s just like...” He paused, thinking. “Well, this girl told me that I wasn’t allowed to lie to her and she was all set to become my new foster mom or whatever, even though she’s only eighteen. I was cool with it. But then she lied to me and I bailed. So, you know. Don’t lie to me. I’m going to try to be honest with you about things, but you probably don’t want to hear half of what I’ve been doing, being a cop and all.”

John scratched at the back of his neck. “Um. Well, I don’t think I lie to anyone, but lies are pretty much second nature, so… if I ever do, and you catch me, you’ve got the right to let me have it. Just…” He took a deep breath. “Just, don’t bail? That’s all I ask. Because… you’re pretty much all I have left of Claudia. And I might have moved on, after she left, but I’ve never stopped loving her. You’re - I’m looking at you right now, and I can see her face. That’s probably not healthy, I’m not… christ, I’m not holding you up to being a mini version of her, I’m just saying, you’re definitely her kid, and… if you’re mine, too, and I really hope that you are, then… I’d like to get to know you. Keep you around. And I might screw up, because like I said, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but… it wouldn’t be intentional. I would never mean for it to be intentional.”

Stiles smiled. “I’d like to at least be able to talk about her, sometimes.” He murmured. “I’ll be right back.” He went out to Derek’s car and opened the passenger side door. “Hey, wanna come in?”

Derek looked up at him and smiled faintly. “I can. How’s everything going so far?” He asked, climbing out of the car. He was mindful of putting his hand on Stiles, settling it lightly on the younger man’s shoulder.

“It’s not terrible, but I’m screwing it up. I think, anyway. I keep swearing and I corrected myself, and he said he understood, but... I just sound like an asshole. And he offered to let me look at pictures of him and my mom, and that’s just... I want to, but not right now. And I’m not hungry or thirsty. So neither one of us actually knows what the hell we’re doing.” Stiles laughed lightly. “He says his girlfriend has a kid around my age. That’s going to be a trip, whenever I meet him.”

Derek smiled and started moving toward the house, tugging Stiles along with him. “I think you’ll like him. John’s girlfriend is the head RN at the hospital. Her son’s a good kid. Kind of… withdrawn, I guess? But a good guy. Smart. He works at the vet clinic, too, he’s taken care of both of my dogs and my cat.” He drew Stiles in front of him, putting his hands on the younger man’s shoulders and staring at him intently. “I don’t think anything you could possibly do would screw this up, Stiles. I honestly think that he’s so grateful to even know that you’re around that he’d accept you even if you were covered in tattoos and he had to arrest you.”

“Yeah? Say that again when he finds out I was stealing and having sex for money.” Stiles remarked, letting himself back into the house. He nodded to John. Hearing Derek’s description of the girlfriend’s son had made him a little wary. He doubted he would measure up. “I have a feeling that if I ask for a beer, you’re gonna say no.”

John’s lips twitched. “Yeah, you’d be right.” He replied, letting out a little laugh. “I can offer you a root beer, or a ginger beer if you really want, but that’s probably the closest either of us will get.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not really allowed to keep alcohol in the house anymore.”

“AA?” Stiles guessed. “Or you’ve converted to being a Mormon. I’ve had a lot of foster parents.”

John grimaced. “No, definitely not Mormon.” He shook his head. “Uh, yeah, AA. I sort of… I had a big problem. But… I’m sober now, and I have been for years, Melissa just… worries.” He shrugged sheepishly.

Stiles nodded. “Can’t be as bad as this one family I stayed with. She was a chronic shoplifter and he was in NA. His sponsor actually had him on this system where he had to start off taking care of a plant, then a pet, then get in a relationship. About six months to a year for each of those, first. I was like, step seven. I kind of thought they’d adopt me, but she got busted and he freaked out and came home with like... whatever. He got high, is what I’m saying. I went to school and reported him. Had a new family to stay with by dinner.”

John raised his eyebrows, unwittingly impressed. “Good that you got yourself out of there that fast, then.” He nodded. He glanced at Derek and smiled at him. “Good to see you, kid. How’d you two meet?”

Stiles thought quickly, wondering if he should lie. He changed his mind, sighing. “I was actually out here for a few days and had no idea who or what I was looking for, so I figured it was time to move on. He gave me a ride to Palo Alto because he had to go there anyway, and I ended up doubling back to San Francisco.”

“Oh.” John nodded. “Well, that’s - that’s a shame, that you were out here and we didn’t know. But you’re back here now.” He looked at Derek and smiled faintly. “Thanks for being there for him, at least.”

Derek shook his head, glancing at Stiles. “It was no problem at all. I didn’t mind.” He chose not to get into the specifics of everything that had happened when he’d first met Stiles.

Stiles sat down on the couch, lost in thought. He could stay, but he didn’t have to. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now. “I think I understand how Galahad felt.” He muttered.

“Galahad?” John looked confused. “Like, the knight?”

“Yeah. Uh, the Holy Grail?” Stiles glanced at Derek. “I got that right, didn’t I? Anyway. I don’t know what to do now. I always wondered who my dad was and now I’ve found him and like... now what the fuck am I doing?”

Derek set a gentle hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Now, you get to know him, if you want to. But take it slow. He’s not automatically going to be the perfect dad.” He glanced at John. “Stiles isn’t going to automatically be the perfect son, so you should probably get out of that mindframe right away. Just… talk to each other, see each other, maybe try to be friends, at the very least?”

“I can handle that.” Stiles murmured.

John smiled tentatively. “I think I can, too.” He shifted in his seat. “At the very least. We’ll be odd sort of friends, but… I think it can work.”

*****

Stiles sat down in the waiting room of the animal clinic, his mind still wandering back to his first meeting with John, earlier that morning. Referring to him as ‘Dad’ felt too strange, and it wasn’t even official yet, they didn’t have any DNA results to prove it. He knew there was a lot of stuff that he should be doing, like enrolling in school, but John had made it sound like Stiles finally got to call the shots on what he wanted, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to go to school.

Scott stepped out of the back and stared down at the clipboard on the counter. He looked up a moment later and smiled brightly. “Hi, uh, Stiles? Come on back.” He gestured, opening the gate.

Stiles held the kitten against his chest carefully and got up, following the guy to the back. He had been walking around and found a tiny black kitten with an injured paw. He didn’t want to think about the convenience of the timing, but he couldn’t help wondering how the hell everything in the town seemed to work out in his favor. He cringed, giving the kitten a guilty smile. “Sorry. You probably think otherwise, huh?” He murmured.

The kitten looked up at Stiles and mewled softly, nudging his head gently against Stiles’ hand before wriggling.

Scott looked down at the kitten and smiled, reaching for him. “Well, hey, little guy. What happened to you, huh?” He lifted the kitten into his arms and scratched gently under his chin. With one gentle finger, he lifted the injured paw to study it. “You poor little dude, this has gotta suck.” He murmured, and then looked up at Stiles. “Where’d you find him?”

“A parking lot. He was limping. I’m kind of a sucker for strays, I guess.” Stiles snorted.

“Me, too!” Scott replied cheerfully, grinning. He walked over to the table and gently set the kitten down on top, holding him in place lightly with one hand. “Alright, well… it looks like it’s just a simple laceration.” He said, studying the paw. “Looks a little like he stepped on a sharp pebble or something. Easy fix.” He began cleaning the small wound out before wrapping the paw. “Alright, little guy.” He cooed, lifting the kitten back up. “You’ll be good as new in no time, I promise.”

Stiles smiled as he watched Scott working, almost certain now that this was the guy that John had mentioned before. “Do cartoon birds wake you up in the morning?” He laughed. “Nevermind. Thanks.”

“Oh, no problem.” Scott laughed softly. “And, yeah, I know I’m kind of… But I don’t really see any reason to be a grouch, or whatever, you know? Life isn’t that hard. That’s insensitive. I shouldn’t have said that. Life can be really hard, just because I have it kind of easy doesn’t mean someone else does. Anyway, I’m going to shut up about that.” He looked at Stiles. “So, you just found the kitten, then? Were you planning to keep him? Because I can check him over and give him his shots and stuff, if you want to hang around.”

“I can’t afford that.” Stiles glanced down at the kitten. “Sorry, little guy. You’re on your own.”

The kitten struggled in Scott’s grip, meowing, high-pitched and squeaky.

Scott set him down on the table and watched as the kitten wobbled his way toward Stiles with a faint smile. “I think maybe he doesn’t agree with you.” He inhaled. “Tell you what - I’m not usually supposed to do stuff like this, but I can take care of the shots and everything. You don’t need to worry about it.” He smiled.

Stiles stared at Scott. “Shit.” He muttered. “Look, if you do that, I’m going to owe you. Even if you say I don’t, I do. It’s just... I can’t take care of a kitten. I can’t afford that. I can’t pay you back, I can’t offer you something in exchange because you look like you’ve stepped out of the freaking Disney vault, okay? So thanks for taking care of him, I guess you’re gonna have to bill me for it, and I’ll pay you back in whatever change I can get out of somebody’s couch cushions.” He shrugged.

Scott tilted his head, staring at Stiles curiously. “What’s your name?”

“Stiles.” Stiles laughed. “You called me back here?”

“No, I know, I mean -” Scott blushed. “I just figured you didn’t want to put your real name down? Unless that is your real name, and then I guess I’m really embarrassed. Um. But, like… Okay, my name is Scott. Scott McCall.” He thrust his hand out at Stiles expectantly.

“I know who you are.” Stiles admitted, shaking Scott’s hand. “Stiles is a nickname. My actual first name is, uh... something I can barely pronounce, so I’m probably actually getting it wrong. Mieczyslaw. My mom called me Stiles all the time, though.” He bit his lip. “Do you need my name for billing, then?”

Scott shook his head, grinning. “Nah, I just wanted to know your name. I try to stay on a first name basis with everyone who comes in here. Anyway, I don’t think taking care of this little munchkin really amounts to much. I’ve literally done more for less.”

“I’m kind of an orphan.” Stiles blurted, trying not to get annoyed. He knew Scott meant well and he did feel guilty that he couldn’t take the kitten home, but he was frustrated. “My mom died when I was six and I’ve been in one shitty foster home after another. The last place, the guy just wanted the extra money he got for me being there, and his biological son didn’t understand what the hell the word no meant, and I left when I turned fifteen. I’ve been on my own for almost three months straight and I’ve had to do things that would turn your hair white if you had any clue what the hell they were, okay? So no, I can’t afford to take care of a kitten. I literally just met my own dad today and I’m not even living with him because that’s just weird. I’ve got three shirts and two of them were given to me by this guy that felt sorry for me, and I only have one pair of jeans, one pair of underwear, and one pair of socks. Somebody else offered to buy me more clothes, but the price for that was to let her basically replace my mother and I wasn’t interested. Okay? No kitten. No... fuck off.”

Scott looked taken aback, staring at Stiles for a long moment. He scooped up the kitten with one hand, his eyes darkening. “Okay. Look. I just met you, and you’re new to town, and I understand that you’ve had a rough time, but I didn’t deserve that. Any of that. If you didn’t want to take the kitten, fine. I’m sorry for the crap you’ve been through, but I don’t need you to talk to me like that. I got enough of that when my dad lived with us, so… You know, no offense, but… like, you can see yourself out.”

“Yeah, okay.” Stiles muttered, leaving the room. He fought back tears when he was outside, biting his lower lip so hard that it nearly bled. To his right was Derek’s. To his left, John’s house. And if he kept walking straight, he could get to the truck stop again and take a chance and get the hell out of Beacon Hills once more. “Fuck.” It didn’t feel like enough to say it, so he yelled it at the top of his lungs, raking his fingers through his hair.

An old woman across the street looked at Stiles in alarm and hurried away.

A girl about Stiles’ age stared at him, her head tilted in amusement. “Well, you scared Mrs. Markowitz shitless for the next year.” She commented. “She’s gonna be holed up in her house, convinced that she’ll get robbed the next time she steps foot out of the house.” She giggled. “Good on you.”

“Well, the way things are going for me, I might be the one doing the robbing.” Stiles muttered, smiling faintly. “I’m guessing you don’t like her?”

“She’s a demon.” She told Stiles, nodding. “More than once, she’s tried to run her mouth about my family, just because we live in the woods, like we’re freaking pariahs or something.” She paused, and then added sheepishly, “I mean, it probably doesn’t help that my siblings and I made her think that we were werewolves and were craving red meat that particular night, but still. She didn’t have to be a bitch.”

Stiles turned more toward the girl. “You’re a Hale, aren’t you? I’m Derek’s... uh, human renovation project? Something like that, anyway.”

She grinned, thrusting a hand at Stiles. “Oh, you’re the guy that’s got his head all loopy.” She laughed. “It’s kind of cute. I think he’s got a crush on you.” She swung her legs a little. “I’m Cora. I’m his little sister.”

“Everybody in this town shakes hands.” Stiles muttered. “Unbelievable.” Still, he shook Cora’s. “Hey, do you think you’d want a kitten? It’s plain black and has these anime eyes. Cute as hell. But I can’t afford to take care of him, and freaking Prince Valiant in there wouldn’t back off and understand that I couldn’t afford it. I kinda lost my temper and snapped at him and he told me to get out. So that’s the effect I have on people. I turn rays of sunshine into storm clouds.”

“Poetic.” Cora replied, smirking a little. “I don’t know if it was just you. Scott gets a little irrational when it comes to animals, and yeah, he does get a little pushy.” She tilted her head. “I don’t see why my mom would object to another animal around. We’ve already got a freaking farm. She was talking about getting chickens, for fuck’s sake. A kitten wouldn’t be a big deal.” Her eyes glinted, and her smile seemed to sharpen at Stiles. “As for the hand-shaking, I mean, I could kick you in the balls, if you wanted, but I’ve been told that’s impolite.”

“Also, we’re not dating.” Stiles retorted, laughing. “Your brother would probably be depressed for weeks if I disappeared, huh?”

Cora laughed. “He moped the entire time he was visiting the main house a few days ago because you’d up and left or whatever. Whatever you’ve got packing in those jeans has got him reeling. He doesn’t date much.” She shrugged. “Or he does, but mostly women.”

“So what you’re saying is that if I did go somewhere else, you would hunt me down and kill me in my sleep, then give him my dick as a souvenir?” Stiles guessed. “Sounds like I’m staying here, then.”

Cora bared her teeth when she grinned. “Oh, that’s a good plan.” She nodded. “I wouldn’t kill you if you ran, though. Hunt you down, yeah, but I wouldn’t kill you. Besides, if I cut off your dick and gave it to him, at some point it would decompose, and then we’d have a whole new set of problems, so it’s just better to keep you alive.”

Stiles laughed. “Okay. I like you. Not in a ‘hitting on you’ sort of way, so we’re clear. Most people think my sense of humor is horrible. Go get the kitten before Scott like, starts putting bows on it or something. I’ll see you.” He walked down the street, to his right, heading back toward Derek’s.

Derek was stretched out on his porch, a book in his hand, and a massive husky sprawled out next to him. He looked up, catching Stiles’ approach with interest, and smiled faintly, lifting a hand. “Hey.” He greeted.

“Hi.” Stiles nodded, sitting down by Derek. “So, two things. One, Scott McCall hates me. Two, apparently I ‘got your head all loopy.’”

Derek blinked, staring down at his book before he earmarked it and sat it down. He stared at Stiles silently for a moment before cursing. “Goddammit, you met my sister.” He muttered.

“Yes, I did. And we’ll talk about that in a minute, but right now I’m trying not to lose my shit, Derek!” Stiles blurted. “My dad’s girlfriend’s son fucking hates me. Do you understand? I might as well go find Lydia and ask her to adopt me, at this point.”

Derek frowned. “Scott doesn’t hate anyone. He’s literally the sweetest, nicest guy on the planet, it’s revolting. What happened?”

“There was this kitten.” Stiles muttered. “I picked it up and took it to the clinic because he was limping, and... first of all, he didn’t think my name was my name because who the hell has a name like Stiles, right? I let that one go, but anyway, I said I couldn’t take care of the kitten, I can’t afford it. He said it’s not that hard, and tries again to tell me what I can and can’t do, and I lost my temper and kinda gave him a short version of the crap I’ve dealt with and how I only own one pair of underwear, so no, I can’t afford a fucking cat, all right? And he told me not to talk to him like that and to get out.”

Derek stared at Stiles, and then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, Scott can be an idiot. A pushy idiot, which makes things worse, sometimes.” He paused. “A pushy, stubborn idiot.” He shook his head. “Listen, ignore him. Don’t let anything he says or does, or the way he acts influence you in any way. He’s his own special brand of… He’s like a damn Disney hero, honestly. Too good to be true, that sort of deal. He can be incredibly irrational, and since he’s been at the clinic, he’s managed to convince pretty much everyone in town to adopt from there, or to at least foster, and he isn’t used to people saying no. The entire community is aware that this is a problem, okay?” He patted Stiles’ shoulder. “You’re just the first person that’s managed to survive the damn puppy eyes.”

“By telling him I only own one pair of underwear.” Stiles repeated. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to enroll in school now. I don’t need people saying shit about me in the halls.”

Derek looked at him. “So don’t enroll in school, then. They have online academies now, and the wifi at the library is free. Enroll in one of those, if you want. Or say fuck it, and get a GED later.” He absently ran his fingers over the husky’s head, scratching between the dog’s ears. “I never finished high school. Got my GED last year.”

Stiles got up and straddled Derek’s legs, leaning forward to kiss him. “I swear you’re the only person that hasn’t made me feel like shit.” He muttered. “Victory blowjob?”

Derek grinned against Stiles’ mouth, his hand moving down to the younger man’s ass. “For you, or me?” He teased, squeezing lightly.

“For you. From me.” Stiles grinned back. “Nice comparison with the Disney thing for Scott, by the way. I asked him if cartoon birds wake him up in the morning.”

“They do.” Derek snorted, rolling to his feet and keeping Stiles tucked against him as he headed for the door of his house. “The birds might be all in his head, is all I’m saying.”

Stiles laughed, unfastening Derek’s jeans when they got into the house. He sank to his knees and started stroking him.

Derek rolled his head back, reaching a hand out to cup Stiles’ head. He drew the younger man closer, and his head dipped forward to watch Stiles, his eyes dark. His thumb pressed against Stiles’ bottom lip before gently pushing past his lips and into his mouth.

Stiles sucked eagerly on Derek’s thumb, closing his eyes. After a moment, he turned his head and took Derek’s erection into his mouth, gripping his lover’s hips. He still had a lot of things he needed to take care of, but he wasn’t going to worry about them until later, when he had managed to get Derek off.

“Stiles -” Derek choked out, his eyes fluttering. Both hands found their way to the back of Stiles’ head, his hips shifting to meet Stiles stroke for stroke.

Stiles let his mind go blank as he moved his hands up to grip Derek’s ass. The noises Derek made, combined with the distant sound of traffic, guided Stiles’ movements like a metronome.

Derek groaned as he thrust into Stiles’ mouth, staring down at the younger man with rapt fascination. “You feel so good.” He said quietly, stroking his fingers through Stiles’ hair and tugging firmly.

Stiles bit down lightly, wanting to give back at least a little of what he was getting. He tightened his grip on Derek, moving faster.

“Coming - gonna - fuck, Stiles,” Derek blurted, letting his head fall back and lightly smack against the wall as he came, hips pumping and feeding his cock into Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles swallowed around Derek, pulling back and licking his lips as he looked up at the older man.

Derek stared back down at Stiles, licking his own lips slowly. After a moment, he dropped to his knees and pushed Stiles onto his back, quickly moving down the younger man’s body. Shoving at Stiles’ shirt, he bit and nipped at Stiles’ stomach and nipples and hips before he yanked at the younger man’s jeans. In one move, he had dragged Stiles’ boxers down and swallowed his cock to the root, sucking slowly and bobbing his head.

Stiles moaned, lifting his head to watch Derek. “Fuck, that feels good.” He blurted. “I really... god, Derek.” He came a moment later, draping his arm over his eyes in embarrassment. “Sorry. I’ve... uh, that was new. That’s all.”

Derek sucked him clean, dragging his tongue over Stiles’ skin and nuzzling against him. “Christ, that was hot.” He muttered, biting lightly at the joint of Stiles’ hip.

Stiles laughed and ran his fingers through Derek’s hair. “I’m glad you think so. I’m mortified.”

“Don’t be.” Derek murmured, grinning against Stiles’ skin. “I like that you lost control like that. Gave me a hell of an ego boost.”

“It’s nice not having a thousand other things on my mind.” Stiles muttered. “I’m down to five hundred.”

Derek looked up at him, grinning faintly. “I could try to narrow it down a little more.” He teased.

Stiles laughed. “You can help me find a job and start paying people back for what I owe them, maybe help out around here a little with money? Convince Scott I’m not Satan?”

“I'll do what I can.” Derek replied, nodding at Stiles. He moved up and lightly kissed the younger man. “Whatever you need me to do. I'll definitely help you.” 

Stiles smiled as he stared at Derek. He sat up, then got to his feet and straightened his clothes. “I’ll probably end up mowing lawns or bagging groceries or something.” He didn’t want to get too attached to Derek. He knew what would happen next, if he did.

“Depends on what we look for.” Derek murmured, stretching out a little on the floor. He looked up at Stiles. “My dad has a friend in town that owns a nursery. A gardening nursery, I mean, not a children’s nursery. It’s not mowing lawns, but you could be feeding plants and things.” He paused. “Of course I’d have to see if they’re even hiring.”

“Will they take me, even though I’m not sixteen yet?” Stiles looked doubtful. “I can lie. Or I can like, sweep or something. I don’t care. Money is money.”

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t hire you. Plenty of people under sixteen have jobs. I mean, they have permits that let them do it, but… you could probably get John to sign something for you, saying that you can, just in case anyone ever questions it.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. I think I’m just gonna go crash for now, though. We’ll go talk to them tomorrow, I guess.” He glanced down at his jeans, picking at a fraying thread on one of the pockets before he went into the bedroom and started undressing, laying down on his stomach and closing his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles was leaning against the wall, outside the locker room. He smiled faintly when he saw Jackson. “Hey again.”
> 
> Jackson straightened, staring at Stiles. “Hi.” He exhaled. “I thought you were leaving.”
> 
> “I was.” Stiles shrugged. “I figured I should at least get your phone number.”

Stiles had been standing near the front of the high school, trying to decide if he wanted go in and enroll, when he heard yelling coming from the back of the building, followed by a whistle blowing. Curious, he walked around the building and climbed up onto the bleachers with a few other teens that were watching lacrosse practice. He idly noted that Scott was sitting on the bench, his last name visible on the back of his jersey. He took a deep breath, redirecting his attention to the guys on the field.

Jackson yanked off his helmet, scowling at Greenberg. He threw his lacrosse stick to the ground in frustration, running his gloved hand over his hair in annoyance, looking around the field, and furrowing his brow when his gaze caught on the bleachers. Shaking his head, he picked up the stick once more and shoved his helmet into Greenberg’s stomach forcefully. “Maybe try not charging the players on your own side, numbnuts, huh?” He snapped before walking away.

Stiles’ eyes focused on the angry guy on the field, smiling faintly. He had never bothered playing sports, always believing that he would be gone before he could even begin to enjoy himself. But he knew a kindred spirit when he saw one. It was probably what had drawn him to Erica.

Jackson bent down into position when Finstock called for them to start again, quickly plowing through the opposing teammates and catching the ball before he raced toward the goal. He rammed his shoulder into several other players along the way, sending several of them flying off of their feet before he aimed and swung the lacrosse stick.

Stiles’ smile widened and he found himself leaning forward, wondering who exactly the hell ‘Whittemore 37’ was. “Looks like I’m matriculating.” He muttered, snorting to himself. For a brief second, he wondered if he should feel guilty for ogling another guy while Derek was so enamored with him, but he brushed the thought aside. Life was too short to worry over relationships.

The ball was caught inches from the goal, and Jackson nearly went apoplectic. His eyes bulged, and the lacrosse stick went flying before he stormed toward the playing goalie who had replaced his best friend that day. He sped up and collided with the other player, gripping the front of his jersey and slamming him to the ground.

“Jackson!” Finstock blew his whistle, grabbing the back of Jackson’s jersey and yanking him away from the goalie. “Hit the showers. And take a cold one, huh? I don’t want to have to kick you off the team for assault.”

“Make sure your other ‘players’ know how to actually play the game, then!” Jackson snapped, jerking away from Finstock. He stormed toward the locker room furiously, shaking off anyone’s attempt to stop him.

Stiles got down from the bleachers, following behind Jackson at a reasonable distance. He sped up when the jock had disappeared into the locker room, determined to catch up to him. He wandered past the rows of lockers, listening for the sound of running water.

Jackson dropped his forehead to the tile wall of the shower, exhaling heavily before he tilted his head back and let the water trail over his face. He’d dropped his clothes the first moment he’d entered the locker room, not caring whether or not he made it to his regular stall.

“Nice form.” Stiles called out, not wanting to startle Jackson too badly.

Jackson lifted his head, looking around warily. His eyes fell on Stiles. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Well, is that really what you want to be asking me?” Stiles teased. “Or maybe you meant ‘how did you get in here?’ The answer is, I walked. How about ‘why did you follow me?’ Well, that one’s pretty easy, so maybe you don’t want to ask that one. I don’t know. You don’t seem like you’re stupid, to me. As for who ‘the fuck’ I am, well... that could be redundant. Sort of.”

Jackson turned toward Stiles, stepping out from under the shower with dark eyes. “Why don’t you stop being cute and give me a straight answer, instead of backtracking and using innuendos?” He muttered. “If you’re going to be in here trying to sneak a peek at my dick, I should at least get a name.”

“Stiles.” Stiles murmured. “And I’m not sneaking anything. Obviously.”

Jackson tilted his head, considering that. “Fair enough.” He said quietly. He took another step closer, curious despite himself. “Why are you here?”

“Thinking about enrolling here.” Stiles admitted. “School isn’t really my thing, but I’ve got nothing else to do with my time.”

Jackson stared at Stiles, frowning. “So… you’re in the locker room. Trying to decide if you want to go to school.”

“Oh, no.” Stiles grinned. “Well, yeah, maybe. My education is depending right now on you.” He teased. “I followed you because you’re hot. I don’t know if I want to bother taking classes or not, that’s still up for debate. I’m not going to ask if you’re single because really? I don’t give a shit if you are or not.”

Jackson smirked. “Oh, you don’t. I’m the captain of the lacrosse team, and every girl in this school - and half the guys - would fall on their knees to be able to say I even looked at them twice.” He eyed Stiles up and down for a moment, and then shifted past the shower stall, stepping closer to Stiles. “But you don’t know if you want to come to school, and it depends on me?”

“I was joking. I have a feeling that you’re the kind of guy that most people are afraid to make jokes to, especially after how you reacted on the field out there. Me, I don’t care. I’m not going to follow you around like a lovesick puppy, I just think a cold shower isn’t going to help you. Not the way I can.” Stiles smirked back at Jackson. “One time offer, expiring in five, four, three...”

Jackson stared at Stiles for a moment longer, then smirked at him. “Well, you don’t want your clothes wet, do you?”

Stiles kept eye contact with Jackson as he took off his shoes, socks, jeans and underwear. He pulled his shirt off over his head and moved toward him, brushing his lips against Jackson’s before he spoke again. “Top or bottom?”

Jackson’s eyes darkened as he looked at Stiles, lifting his head a bit and slipping his tongue out to drag against Stiles’ lower lip. “Take your pick.” He replied.

Stiles grinned. “Face the wall, then. Hands on the tile.”

Jackson turned, following Stiles’ directions and pressing his hands to the tile. His forehead dropped to press against the tile as well.

“That’s good.” Stiles murmured, using his knee to spread Jackson’s legs apart. He ran a hand up and down the other teen’s back, then pressed a finger inside him as he kissed Jackson’s neck. “You’re tighter than I thought you would be.” He teased.

Jackson groaned quietly. “Don’t get fucked.” He admitted quietly, pushing his hips back against Stiles’ finger. “Usually do the fucking.”

“Mm, then you don’t even know what you want.” Stiles murmured. “Because I know your type. You have a praise kink and like being told how good you are, don’t you?” He started stroking Jackson’s erection with his other hand, kissing his shoulder. “Like this?”

Jackson’s eyes fluttered shut and he pushed into Stiles’ touch, grinding back against him and thrusting his hips into Stiles’ hand. “Yeah,” he breathed, nodding. “But I am good.” He murmured, slowly rubbing back against Stiles’ hips. “I’m very good.”

“Good boys don’t beat up on their teammates.” Stiles argued lightly. “But I’ll let it go today, you didn’t know any better.” He slid his fingers out of Jackson and thrust in with his cock, groaning.

Jackson moaned, his head dropping forward. “Fuck. Yeah. Fuck me, fuck me.” He pleaded quietly, grunting softly.

“Sounds like you needed this, yeah?” Stiles started thrusting harder, bracing his hands on the wall, above Jackson’s.

“Yeah,” Jackson muttered, nodding. “Need it. Fucking want it, god.”

“Maybe I should go here.” Stiles muttered as he kept pounding into Jackson. “Keep an eye on you, fuck you when we have time for it, let you ride my dick.”

“You could fuck my mouth during class.” Jackson murmured, squeezing down around Stiles roughly.

“You’d like that.” Stiles grinned. “Out in the open, too, probably. You want to be seen. I bet right now, you’re hoping that somebody walks in and sees you getting nailed right here.”

Jackson felt himself harden, and he let out a low whine. “Fuck, yeah.” He groaned.

“Yeah?” Stiles repeated, smiling. “So, are you closeted? Or have you just been waiting for somebody to give you what you want?”

“Not closeted.” Jackson grunted. “Everyone I fuck is pathetic and useless.” He straightened and dropped his head back against Stiles’ shoulder, gripping the other teen’s hand and dragging it to his cock. “‘Cept you.”

Stiles laughed and took his hand away from Jackson’s dick. “Did I say you could do that? You want it, you have to ask for it. Nicely.”

Jackson groaned in frustration. “Touch my dick, please. Make me come.”

Stiles started stroking Jackson again, biting down lightly on his shoulder. “That’s better.”

Jackson exhaled, his eyes closing as he shuddered, his hips thrusting as he spilled all over Stiles’ hand.

Stiles lifted his hand to his mouth and licked at the come there, rinsing the rest of it off in the stream of now cold water. He thrust a few more times, then came inside Jackson before he pulled out and turned the other teen around, kissing him.

Jackson groaned into his mouth, kissing him back thoroughly.

Stiles rubbed Jackson’s shoulders, pulling back to make eye contact with him. “Are you clear? If I left right now, I wouldn’t be leaving you a mess, right? Or do I need to stick around a little while?”

Jackson smirked lazily, leaning back to gaze at Stiles. “Nah, I’m good.” He murmured. “Better than good.”

Stiles grinned back. “Okay.” He left the shower stall, drying off and getting dressed. He blew Jackson a kiss and walked out through the locker room’s other entrance, the one that led into the school, as the rest of the lacrosse team came in.

Jackson leaned his back against the wall, gazing at the rest of the team steadily as they trailed in. His gaze hardened, and even as relaxed as he was, he could feel his anger at the rest of them returning as they stared. “What the fuck are you looking at?” He snapped, and shut the shower off, wrapping his towel around his waist.

Danny walked toward Jackson, eyeing him warily. “What’s going on with you lately?”

“Nothing.” Jackson muttered, glancing at his best friend. “I’m just not in the mood to deal with morons and their bullshit.”

“Yeah, I understand that.” Danny nodded, glancing back at Greenberg before he looked at Jackson again. “At least we won’t have to worry about him playing? Coach said he’s considering putting Scott in, instead.”

Jackson’s eyes bulged. “McCall? The asthmatic? Finstock wants to put the asthmatic kid in? We might as well call the season right now. Hell, we might as well get the fucking hospital on standby.” He muttered.

“I don’t think he’s that bad.” Danny protested. “He just hasn’t had a chance to play.”

Jackson gave Danny a disbelieving look. “He practically keeled over the other day just trying to get past the band to get to class, Danny.”

“Well, okay.” Danny murmured, sighing. “This sucks. We need help. At this point, we might as well demand that our team becomes coed.”

Jackson snorted. “There are plenty of chicks that could run circles around half the guys on the team. We wouldn’t have to look hard.”

Danny smiled. “Or we could just get that guy that followed you in here.”

“He doesn’t go here.” Jackson replied immediately, moving toward his locker to get dressed. He frowned. “What makes you think he could play lacrosse, anyway?”

“He looked like it.” Danny mused. “I don’t know. So are you seeing him?”

“Nope. No clue who he is.” Jackson replied bluntly, dropping his towel before he reached for his boxer briefs and pants and slid them on.

“You knew him well enough to let him bite you.” Danny remarked, laughing. “But okay, whatever.”

“I literally just met him.” Jackson frowned, rubbing self-consciously at the back of his neck.

“You let a guy fuck you that followed you back here, and you don’t even know who he is?” Danny looked worried. “Why?”

Jackson was quiet for a moment, frowning deeply and keeping his gaze away from Danny’s. “Because…” He shook his head. “Because he offered. Because I needed it.”

“Oh.” Danny stared at Jackson, then nodded and finished changing out of his uniform. He wasn’t sure what else to say, and he knew that any further concern would make Jackson irritated. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Jackson mumbled, tugging his shirt on. “See you tomorrow.” He sighed and gathered his things, feeling off-kilter and awkward as he started to leave the locker room.

Stiles was leaning against the wall, outside the locker room. He smiled faintly when he saw Jackson. “Hey again.”

Jackson straightened, staring at Stiles. “Hi.” He exhaled. “I thought you were leaving.”

“I was.” Stiles shrugged. “I figured I should at least get your phone number.” He didn’t want to explain that he didn’t have a phone, he would steal one if he had to. He still owed Erica and Lydia phone calls.

Jackson hesitated, then nodded. “Oh, yeah.” He murmured, and reached for a scrap piece of paper and a pen, scrawling out his number. “Here you go.”

Stiles smiled again and pocketed the piece of paper. He didn’t feel like being playful when he spoke again. “So I think I’m going to enroll here, yeah. That’s not going to be weird for you, is it? Normally, I don’t give a fuck, but I kind of proved that I do. In this case.”

Jackson shook his head. “No, not - it won’t be weird. I don’t think it’ll be weird. It might be at first.” He admitted.

Stiles licked his lips, then moved toward Jackson and kissed him lightly. “It’ll be fine.” He murmured.

Jackson’s eyes fell shut, and he pressed forward, kissing Stiles back, his lips parted.

Stiles brought a hand up to rest on the back of Jackson’s neck.

Jackson groaned softly, pressing closer to Stiles, his hands settling on the other teen’s hips.

Scott blinked, wide-eyed, as he made his way out of the building and spotted Jackson. He recognized Stiles instantly, as the boy who’d stopped by the clinic with the kitten, and his eyes widened even further. “Whoa.” He mumbled.

Stiles pulled back, his gaze going past Jackson’s shoulder to look at Scott. “What are you doing here, dickface? I charge for entertaining.”

A disgusted expression crossed Scott’s face. “In case you missed it, the school grounds are public property, and I sort of have to walk out of this door if I want to leave them. You don’t own the property, asshole.” He stomped past the duo, blatantly giving them a wide berth.

“Doesn’t explain why you stopped and felt the need to comment.” Stiles snorted.

Scott stopped and scoffed, shaking his head. “Because the sight of Jackson Whittemore getting his entire face vacuumed off by a jackass isn’t something that people see regularly around here.” He shot back.

Stiles laughed and glanced back at Jackson. “I’m definitely enrolling here.”

Jackson looked amused, a vague smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That should be interesting.” He murmured before focusing his gaze on Scott. “Wander off, McCall. Maybe get lost in traffic.”

Scott grit his teeth, shaking his head and walking away.

Stiles kissed Jackson again, grinning. “He hates me.” He nodded toward Scott. “Because I refused to adopt a kitten.” He hadn’t missed that Jackson’s clothing was expensive, so he decided to leave out the fact that he could barely afford to take care of himself, nevermind a pet.

Jackson let out a low noise in his throat, darting his head forward to kiss Stiles back lingeringly. “Stupid fucking reason to hate someone. But McCall’s a moron, anyway.”

Stiles nodded. “I have to go.” He murmured. “I’ll come back here tomorrow and register, though.”

Jackson nodded, pulling back. “Okay.” He murmured, eyeing Stiles up and down. “Maybe I should give you my address, too.” He mused thoughtfully.

“Tomorrow.” Stiles grinned. “Gives you something to look forward to.”

A grin cracked Jackson’s lips. “Sounds good.” He murmured. “You’ve got something to look forward to, too.” He leaned forward, slipping Stiles’ earlobe between his teeth before he reached between the other teen’s legs and groped him. “My mouth on your cock.” He whispered, before he pulled back.

Stiles nodded. “I’m planning on it.” He adjusted his jeans and smiled, then walked away.

Jackson watched him go, and then exhaled slowly, making up his mind to go straight home and give himself some time to relax before he used his hand on his dick.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not a problem.” John replied. He looked over at Stiles. “And take your time, alright? I’m not playing bill collector here, I’m not going to start stalking you outside of Derek’s house, demanding you pay me. Take your time, get yourself settled, get what you need and then worry about repayments and shit.”
> 
> “Right.” Stiles nodded, but he felt guilty. He didn’t want to show up in the guy’s life and start making him pay for everything.

Stiles walked to John’s house instead of Derek’s, knocking and hoping that Scott wasn’t there. He hadn’t met Melissa yet, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. But he knew that he would have to, eventually.

John opened the front door, and he smiled a little when he saw Stiles on the other side. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“Good.” Stiles murmured. “Uh, sort of? I think I’m going to enroll at the high school here. But if I’m gonna do that, I kind of need stuff.” He took a deep breath. “And I’ll pay you back for whatever, or if you can’t afford it, then forget I asked. It’s cool. I just thought if I’m gonna stay here, I’d better find something to do with my time.”

John’s smile widened. “No, no. I’d be happy to do it, Stiles, I would, really.” He nodded. “I’m glad you’re thinking of sticking around.”

“Okay.” Stiles nodded. “I’m going to need some clothes. I don’t need expensive stuff, just whatever’s on clearance or from a thrift store or whatever. And not a lot of things. Just a few. And maybe a phone?” He bit his lip. “One of those refurbished ones, though. I don’t need it for anything more than making calls and sending texts.”

“Stiles.” John said firmly. “I’d be happy to get you anything you want, or need. I just ask that you come by after school, or stop by the station… maybe let me get to know you a little. Okay?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Stiles agreed. “I wasn’t asking for handouts. I don’t want handouts.”

“I know.” John replied simply. “But… If you decide you want something or need something, or… anything, I don’t want you to feel hesitant about asking me for help, because I will help you. I’ll flat out tell you when it’s not happening, or when you won’t be getting - whatever it is you ask for. Or how much you’ll pay me back if I do agree to get it for you.”

“All of it.” Stiles remarked. “I’m paying you back all of it. It’s not like you even knew I existed until a couple of days ago. You’re not obligated. I’m only asking because I’d rather ask you than Derek. He’s done enough for me, as it is. I mean, I’m staying there.”

John lifted a hand, shrugging. “That’s fine. I’m okay with that.” He nodded. “So we’re on the same page, then.”

“Looks like.” Stiles glanced over his shoulder, then turned back toward John. “Oh, uh, I think I’ve kind of made an enemy of Scott. I’m only mentioning it because I’d rather you hear it from me than him. Unless he already said something?”

John’s lips twitched. “He may have come over, whining about the new guy in town that’s treating him badly even though he’s done nothing to him.” His eyes glinted mischievously. “I haven’t said anything to him. Melissa, yes, but not Scott. I’m a little excited to watch realization dawn when he finds out who you are to me.”

“Yeah, I still haven’t told him that.” Stiles laughed. “I went by the school earlier and he was at lacrosse practice? I don’t know that I’m really into sports, but I’m tempted to change my perspective on that. He called me a jackass, I called him a dickface. It’s like we’re already brothers.”

John snorted out a laugh. “Well, that’s good. At least I’ll be prepared whenever you come over to visit.”

“Do you think you have time now to do this, or would you maybe just...” Stiles hesitated. “Uh, give me the money for things and I’ll go take care of it?”

John paused. “Well… I mean, I have time now, yes, but… we could go together, if you wanted to. It’s up to you. If you’d rather, I can absolutely just give you the money and let you do it yourself, or go by myself.”

“No, now works for me.” Stiles mused. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Alright.” John nodded. “Let me just get my jacket and my keys, and we can go.” He moved to gather his things, the keys jangling from his fingers, and he gestured at Stiles. “Come on, let’s go.”

Stiles followed John out to the car, lost in thought. “You can ask me whatever.” He murmured. “I can’t promise you’ll like the answer, but I want to... I want this to not be weird.”

“I think it’s going to be weird whether we want it to be or not.” John admitted, sighing. He climbed into the cruiser, thinking silently for a moment. “There’s a lot I want to ask, and it’s suddenly like I can’t think of a single thing.” He rubbed his eyes, and then sighed again, putting the car into gear. A moment later, he looked at Stiles. “What about you?” He asked.

“I don’t know, either.” Stiles admitted. “It feels like anything I want to ask is the wrong thing. Why did you decide to become a cop?”

John tilted his head thoughtfully. “Not sure, exactly. I remember watching the police when I was a kid and thinking I wanted to be like them. But it might have been when I, uh… Came back from military duty. I wanted something that would… keep me in the action, I guess. And then, I wanted something that would let me help protect people.” He stared out of the windshield silently for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah. I think that was it - that I just wanted the chance to protect people.”

“So you’re definitely the ‘team player’ type, yeah? Military and then police force. Did you play sports in high school?” Stiles snorted. “I’m not good at that. If something doesn’t benefit me, I don’t see a point in it. Of course, it’s usually that if it doesn’t benefit me, it costs me and benefits somebody else.”

“Hmm.” John murmured. “Well. I didn’t play football or anything. I was on the track team, though. Smart thing to do, since the Army and the police academy training was basically pure running and jumping hurdles.” He snorted.

“I’m okay at running.” Stiles took a deep breath, trying to think of something light-hearted. “Okay. The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?”

John laughed. “Oh, jeez. Both of them have their good point, but… If I had to choose, I’d choose the Beatles.” He nodded and glanced at Stiles. “Same question back.”

“The Beatles. It shouldn’t even be a question, I don’t know why I asked it.” Stiles laughed.

John grinned at him. “Your mom was one of the biggest Beatles fans I ever met. There may have been a point where we initiated a knock-down drag-out war over the Abbey Road album, because we couldn’t remember who it belonged to first.”

“She used to tell me that she would have named me Paul if she hadn’t named me after her dad.” Stiles murmured.

“Yeah. We talked about that, too.” John smiled. “She said it was because she already had a John in her life.” He cleared his throat. “Ah. Anyway. So you don’t play sports, but do you like watching them? Baseball, anything?”

“Yeah, baseball.” Stiles nodded. “The Mets, mostly.”

“Yeah?” John smiled. “Long-suffering as hell, but we’d kill for ‘em.”

“You like them, too?” Stiles turned his head to stare at his dad, baffled.

John nodded, visibly cringing. “They crush my damn hopes every single year, but it’s like a damn train wreck, I can’t look away. Probably going to love them until I die, if we’re honest.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “That probably means I’m going to die miserable, but I’ll bear it.”

“Yeah, me too.” Stiles laughed again. “I didn’t care about them at all until the third foster family I was with. I hadn’t even turned seven yet. The first one freaked me out and they got kind of frustrated with me. They tossed me out after they moved to New Jersey. The second family was a little bit better, but not by much, and then I was in a group home or whatever it was for a couple of weeks. That sucked, and when the third family came to take me in, I was really relieved. So I was happy to spend time with them, no matter what.”

John looked over at Stiles. “I’m glad that last family worked out better than the first two. Do you mind me asking - why didn’t they end up adopting you?”

“Oh, she got pregnant and they decided they’d rather raise their own kid.” Stiles shrugged. “That kind of happened a lot, actually. Not just to me, but other people I’ve talked to.”

John went quiet, frowning a little. He looked up at Stiles after a moment. “Want me to hunt any of these families down to check and see if they’re miserable now?”

Stiles laughed. “Nah, that’s okay. Thanks for the offer. I like to think of them like that, though.”

“Well, they should be.” John nodded. He smiled at Stiles. “You’re a pretty cool kid.” He pulled into the parking lot of the closest store.

Stiles got out and looked around, trying to figure out where they were. His tense stance became a more relaxed one once he realized he recognized the area of town.

“Come on, let’s head inside.” John murmured, climbing out of the truck and gesturing at the store. “You lead the way. Pick out what you want, throw it in the cart, and I’ll pay for it when you’re done.”

Stiles nodded and went into the store. He grabbed a package of socks and a package of boxers, then tossed them into the cart and moved on, toward the jeans. He found a pair in his size, in black, then hesitated for a moment before he added a second pair to the cart, as well.

John trailed after him, gazing around the store. “Do you have an idea of anything you might need for classes, besides clothes?” He asked.

“Shit.” Stiles muttered. He grabbed one of the pairs of jeans and put them back on the shelf. “Pens, pencils, notebooks. Probably a calculator? And a backpack. Wait, maybe not the backpack. I have a duffel bag. That could work, right?”

“I don’t see why not.” John nodded. “And I think Scott’s got a couple of those fancy calculators hanging around the house somewhere, so don’t worry about that, either. He won’t miss one.”

“Okay. Pens, pencils, and paper. Anything else, I’ll just get later.” Stiles murmured.

“Sounds good.” John agreed, clapping a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Alright, let’s get you the rest of your stuff, and then we can get out of here.”

Stiles grabbed the school supplies and put them in the cart. He stopped near a shelf with boxed cell phones, grabbing one that cost ten dollars. “Okay, that’s it. Let’s go.”

John stared at the cell phone briefly, but nodded. “Alright. I’m going to get a drink, you want one?” He asked, heading toward the registers.

“What?” Stiles glanced up. “No, I’m good. Thanks.” He followed John, adding up the cost of everything in his head and hoping he wasn’t miscalculating all of it. He tapped his fingers against the conveyor belt as he watched the register screen, grimacing when he realized he had forgotten about sales tax.

John was watching the screen as well, and nodded for a moment, reaching for his credit card. He paused. “Oh, wait, hang on.” He dug through his wallet and found a key tag with a barcode specifically for the store, and then handed it to the cashier. He glanced at Stiles. “I don’t know if this will catch anything, but at the very least, I’ll get points or something for purchase.”

Stiles nodded. “Okay.” He bit at the nail on his index finger, exhaling softly when the card reduced the price by three dollars.

John grimaced. “Could’ve been a lot more. I’m pretty sure those jeans were on sale.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Alright, well. Whatever, I guess.” He swiped his credit card and signed quickly on the keypad.

Stiles looked away, biting his lip and pretending he hadn’t seen the card. It was almost too tempting to take it for himself and get other things that he knew he needed and didn’t want to ask for.

Grabbing the bags, John put them into the cart, exhaling. It was tempting to want to come back later and purchase more things for Stiles - things that he knew his son actually needed, and wanted, but wouldn’t dare ask him. But he’d dealt with enough teenagers that didn’t want anyone else’s help, that he was well aware of how Stiles would react, and he didn’t want to push his son away. Figuring that compromise was the only way that Stiles would let him help, he sighed and led the way back out to the car. “So. What next? You need anything else?”

“No, that should be it.” Stiles mumbled. “I should probably get back now, actually. I didn’t tell Derek I would be gone this long. At least now I have a phone and I can call him for shit like this.”

“That’s good.” John murmured. “And it’s not like he won’t understand. He will. But, yeah, let’s get you back now.” He loaded the bags into the back of the SUV and climbed in.

Stiles got in the other side, the sales total repeating in his brain. He wanted to ignore it, but he knew that wasn’t going to work. “Thanks for this.” He murmured.

“It’s not a problem.” John replied. He looked over at Stiles. “And take your time, alright? I’m not playing bill collector here, I’m not going to start stalking you outside of Derek’s house, demanding you pay me. Take your time, get yourself settled, get what you need and then worry about repayments and shit.”

“Right.” Stiles nodded, but he felt guilty. He didn’t want to show up in the guy’s life and start making him pay for everything.

John smiled at Stiles faintly. “I know what you’re thinking.” He murmured. “Or I have a vague idea of it.” He licked his lips and sighed. “I didn’t know for sure that Claudia was pregnant, when she left. But I thought about it. When we were engaged, we talked about having kids, we talked about names, we talked about everything. I wanted to be a dad. I wanted it a lot, I dreamed about having a son with her eyes, a little girl with her nose.” He smiled crookedly. “In the back of my head, I imagined spoiling the shit out of those kids every second I got the chance while your mom screamed at me for turning you guys into brats in the background.” He glanced at his son again. “It’s a little warped. It definitely isn’t how I imagined it, because your mom should be here. But this is as close as I’ve gotten to what I wanted. And I know you’re just humoring me by letting me ‘help’ and everything, and you’re planning on paying me back, but I really, honestly don’t mind doing this for you.”

“Uh, actually?” Stiles took a deep breath. “I asked you because I didn’t want to ask Derek. Derek’s already done enough for me and I would rather owe two people a little bit of money than owe one person a lot.”

John shrugged a shoulder. “It still applies. Whether you wanted to ask Derek, or ask me, or ask the president.” He snorted. “Just - I don’t mind, alright? I don’t.”

“Okay.” Stiles murmured. “Maybe...” He hesitated, then sighed again. “Maybe sometime this week, I could have dinner with you, Melissa and Scott?”

“I’d like that.” John said quietly. “And if Scott does something to set you off, I promise I won’t be offended if you belt him or walk out.” He tilted his head. “Melissa might, but I can deal with that later.”

Stiles laughed. “I’ll try not to, though.” He smiled.

John smiled back at him. “Thanks, Stiles.” He pulled in front of Derek’s house, stopping right at the curb. Looking over at his son, he shrugged. “Well. This is your stop. I’ll come over later with that calculator for you, if you want. Or, since you’ve got a phone now, you can give me a call, hmm?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Stiles agreed, twisting around in his seat to grab his bags. “Thanks again.” He knew the right thing would be to actually call John ‘Dad,’ but the word felt like it was still stuck in his throat. He nodded and walked up to Derek’s front door, knocking.

Derek opened the door. “Hey. Where’ve you been?” He looked down at the bags, and then past him at the SUV containing the sheriff, pulling away from the curb, and his face cleared. He smiled at the younger boy. “Come on.” He nodded to the inside of the house.

Stiles walked past Derek. “I have a phone now. I haven’t set it up yet, but I will. I’m enrolling in classes tomorrow. It’s okay if I give your address, right? I can give... John’s. My... my dad’s? If that’s not okay with you. I mean, for yours.” He cleared his throat. “I had sex with somebody else, earlier today. If that’s a deal-breaker, I’ll go. I’ll leave the stuff behind that you let me use, that’s okay. I just want the travel kit that Lydia bought me, at least.”

Derek stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. “Um… Well, no, I mean. You can stay here, it’s fine. And… I didn’t think we were exclusive or anything.” He scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck. “But - yeah, you can give my address, that’s fine.”

Stiles nodded. “Okay.” He started unbagging everything, then took the tags off of the jeans. “I saw Scott again today. He’s not the guy I had sex with. Somebody should, though. He needs it.”

“Don’t look at me, I don’t plan on it.” Derek snorted. “My sister might, if you talk to her about it.” He smirked a little, picking up some of Stiles’ new things and setting them on the table. “She’s a little messed up, honestly. Not in a psychotic way, but she does seem to enjoy seeing how often she can make innocent-seeming guys terrified and attracted to her at the same time.”

“I like that game, too.” Stiles laughed. “I’m going to start going to school, in case the pencils and paper didn’t tip you off. I owe John... my dad. I have to get used to saying it, don’t I? I owe him about sixty dollars. Another hundred for you, and about eleven for Lydia. But I’ll probably just give her twenty. I don’t know where it’s all going to come from. I might have to spend a weekend in Vegas.” He smirked.

Derek’s lips curled up. “That could be fun.” He murmured. “We might have to actually do that at some point.”

Stiles stared at Derek for a long moment, tilting his head. “I’ll give you twenty-five percent of whatever I make. Plus what I owe you. I’d go fifty-fifty, but I have to figure out school lunches and probably whatever the fuck it costs to join the lacrosse team, because I think I’m going to end up doing that.”

“Really?” Derek looked surprised and intrigued. “The lacrosse team? What brought that on?” He didn’t address Stiles’ offer in regards to the money yet. He figured they could talk about it at length later.

“Yeah, maybe? I don’t know. I don’t know if I’d like it or not, but it gives me something to do that isn’t illegal.” Stiles snorted. “I mean, I have to try to live like a normal person now, right?”

Derek tilted his head, smiling faintly. “You’re pretty normal in comparison to a lot of people I’ve encountered.” He replied. “But sure. Plus…” He eyed Stiles carefully. “The practices could help you in other parts of your life. Endurance, things like that.”

Stiles grinned. “There’s nothing wrong with my endurance.” He protested, laughing. “I can show you right now. You don’t believe me?”

Derek laughed quietly. “I think you should show me. I definitely think you should.”

Stiles took off his shirt, then his jeans. “So, this weekend, though? Because I’ll go register tomorrow and maybe take classes then, but it might not be until the day after. And then it’s the weekend after that, anyway.”

“That sounds good to me.” Derek nodded, watching the younger man. “I’ll book us a hotel room. Unless you just wanted to do a day trip?” He asked curiously, reaching for Stiles and placing his hands on the teen’s hips.

“It might take all weekend.” Stiles paused, grimacing. “No, no hotel room. I couldn’t cover that and what I already owe everybody.”

Derek thought for a moment. “We could borrow my older sister’s van.” He suggested.

“Okay.” Stiles nodded, moving toward Derek to kiss him. “Thanks.”

Derek lifted a hand to rub Stiles’ back, kissing him back slowly. “Not a problem.” He murmured.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I see we have a new student.” Harris spoke, staring down at his class roster before he glanced up, his gaze going around the room until he looked at Stiles. “Who has taken it upon himself to sit wherever he wants. I hope you find the room to your liking, Mr. Wronski.”
> 
> “Yeah, it’s all right.” Stiles snorted. “I mean, it’s still school, so... get back to me when they turn this place into a strip club?”

The next day, wearing his new jeans, boxers, socks and one of the shirts that Derek had given him, Stiles carried his schedule and school supplies with him to the third period class. The first two had been spent taking a placement exam and getting his schedule. He had seen a lot of students giving him weird looks, but he just wanted to get through the day.

Jackson raised his head from across the hallway, spotting Stiles instantly. He shoved past half of them, getting to Stiles’ side in an instant. “Hey.” He greeted quietly. “What’s your schedule look like?”

Stiles held his schedule out to Jackson. “Science now, then lunch, then Spanish after that, gym after that, and math last.” He grimaced. “English first period and U.S. History second.”

Jackson took the paper and studied it for a moment. “I’m in science with you. And math, and English, too.” He cleared his throat. “I could probably see about getting them to adjust your schedule. The secretary owes my dad a couple of things.”

“I don’t mind taking Spanish. I know a lot of it.” Stiles shrugged. “But if it means getting into the other classes you’re in, then yeah. I don’t want to take gym.” He smiled faintly at Jackson. “How much time until the bell rings?”

Jackson arched an eyebrow. “First bell is in about five minutes.” He replied.

Stiles’ smile widened and he gripped the front of Jackson’s shirt, stepping back against the lockers and pulling the other teen with him. “Good. Come here, then.”

Jackson’s lips twitched, and he stepped closer to Stiles, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ neck, tilting his head to kiss him slowly.

Stiles kissed back, moving his hand to let his books and papers fall to the floor as he put his other arm around Jackson. He had been worried that Jackson would take one look at his clothes and ignore him, so he was relieved that it hadn’t turned out that way.

Jackson wrapped his other arm around Stiles’ waist, tugging the taller boy closer and simultaneously pushing him back against the locker as he deepened the kiss. He didn’t know what it was about Stiles, but he liked it - and he couldn’t find it in himself to care what anyone else might have thought.

Stiles dragged his lips away from Jackson’s, whispering in his ear. “You’re being so good.” He kissed Jackson’s earlobe, smiling against his skin. “I’m going to tell you right now, I have plans this weekend. But sometime next week, after school, say the word and I’ll come over.”

Jackson moaned softly, nodding. “Monday. Come over on Monday.” He murmured, dragging his own lips down to Stiles’ throat and sucking slowly.

“Okay.” Stiles agreed, tilting his head back against the locker. He rubbed a hand up and down Jackson’s back, sighing and smiling again. He groaned when the bell rang. “Damn it.” He pushed Jackson back gently and gathered his scattered supplies.

Jackson grumbled quietly, dropping his forehead against the locker before he straightened and moved back. Unable to resist himself, he dragged a hand over Stiles’ back. “Ready?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah, if you sit by me.” Stiles smiled. “I’m not so good at this.” He faltered, giving Jackson a double take because he wasn’t sure he should have said that. Instead of saying anything else, he went into the classroom and sat down.

Jackson smiled faintly back at Stiles and sat down at the desk beside him. “It’s cool. Half the time I’m not so sure I am, either.”

Stiles smiled back at Jackson, then looked up at the front of the room as the teacher came in.

“I see we have a new student.” Harris spoke, staring down at his class roster before he glanced up, his gaze going around the room until he looked at Stiles. “Who has taken it upon himself to sit wherever he wants. I hope you find the room to your liking, Mr. Wronski.”

Stiles blinked when he realized he had nearly corrected the teacher about his last name. “Yeah, it’s all right.” He snorted. “I mean, it’s still school, so... get back to me when they turn this place into a strip club?”

Jackson’s lips twitched, and he lowered his head, snorting out a laugh.

The other students in the room gaped at Stiles, and there were several sniggers coming from the back before outright laughter erupted.

“You’re not exactly starting off on the right foot, Mr. Wronski.” Harris remarked dryly.

“Principal’s office?” Stiles guessed, sighing when the teacher nodded slowly. “It’s fine, I didn’t want to sit in a room with somebody that says my last name like they’re talking about a river of shit, anyway.” He waved to Jackson and left the room.

Jackson leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at Harris. “You’re doing a great job of making sure a new student feels comfortable here, Harris.” He shot back.

“Given the display the two of you put on in the hallway before class, Jackson? I think you’ve made him feel welcome enough already.” Harris muttered.

Jackson smirked at the teacher. “Oh, that’s cute. Yeah, my dad will think it’s real adorable that you’re mocking the way I swing.” He stood up, gathering his things. “I’ll make sure to let him know what a bigoted ass you enjoy being.” He headed for the doorway.

“You know PDA is not allowed here, Jackson!” Harris called after the teen.

“Don’t care!” Jackson called back. “You’re lucky I didn’t fuck him right on the floor of the hall.” He made his way out of the classroom and toward the principal’s office.

Stiles laughed as he motioned to Jackson. “I’m not going to the principal’s office. He doesn’t know who the fuck I am. Not even a little. But fucking in the hallway does sound pretty good. If you want to.”

Jackson smirked, stepping closer to him. “Well, there’s no one around, so we might as well.” He teased.

Stiles grinned and kissed Jackson. “You know that guy wants you, right? Harris? He might as well have pissed a circle around your desk.”

Jackson kissed Stiles back, holding onto his hips tightly. He furrowed his brow and pulled back to look at Stiles thoughtfully. “That explains a lot, actually. He’s always touching my shoulder and putting his arm around me.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, I know his type, too.” He muttered, then unfastened his jeans.

Jackson watched Stiles intently, sinking down to his knees without another word and dragging his tongue over Stiles’ erection through his boxers.

Stiles rested his hand on the side of Jackson’s neck, groaning. “I’ve been thinking about this since you said you were going to do it.” He admitted. “I like your mouth.”

Jackson’s lips curved up, his hot breath soaking into the material of Stiles’ boxers. “My mouth likes you, too.” He murmured, and dragged the fabric down over Stiles’ backside, letting the boxers catch on Stiles’ erection briefly before he finally unwrapped it. Groaning softly, he leaned forward and lapped at the head, dragging his tongue over the slit before wrapping his entire mouth over it.

Stiles ran his fingers through Jackson’s hair, thrusting into his mouth. He had made a mistake in a blissed-out moment with Erica when he asked her to be his girlfriend, and had been too embarrassed to admit it to her. He didn't want to do that with Jackson. He moved a hand to cup Jackson’s cheek, feeling the outline of his cock in the other guy’s mouth. “Look at you,” he breathed out, his voice low. “Want to take me all the way in, like I got in your ass yesterday? I could come right down your throat.”

Jackson moaned as his cock hardened, and he stumbled forward on his knees, eagerly sucking Stiles in right to the root, his nose nudging Stiles’ abdomen. He nodded haltingly, reaching up to clutch at the other teen’s hips tightly, slipping his fingers over Stiles’ ass.

Stiles grinned down at Jackson, pressing back against his lover’s hand. “Do it.” He murmured, his gaze shifting toward the end of the hall to make sure they weren’t about to be interrupted.

Jackson’s fingers shifted, pressing slowly inside of Stiles as he swallowed desperately around his dick, unable to lick or use his tongue as he had before.

Stiles pulled out halfway and thrust back in, working himself between Jackson’s hand and mouth. “Oh my god.” He murmured. “So good.”

Jackson whimpered around Stiles, pushing a second finger, followed by a third, inside of Stiles and thrusting them roughly as he panted and swallowed and gulped around Stiles’ cock. His hips twitched frantically as he tried to find some form of friction that would help get him off.

Stiles came, stepping back to pull out of Jackson’s mouth when he was done. He pulled up his boxers and jeans, kneeling in front of his lover and kissing him as he started stroking Jackson through his clothes.

Jackson groaned and pushed into Stiles’ touch, kissing him back eagerly.

“I could do this every day.” Stiles laughed lightly. “I like you.” He felt vulnerable, saying it out loud, but he pulled back a little to make eye contact with Jackson. “I like you.” He repeated.

Jackson stared back at Stiles, looking down a little with a soft blush on his cheeks. “I like you too.” He said softly. “I don’t… I don’t like a lot of people.”

“Neither do I.” Stiles agreed. “But from what I know of you so far, I like you. And I want to get to know more about you, too.” He smiled.

“I’d be okay with that.” Jackson murmured, leaning forward to kiss him again.

*****

Lydia knocked on Derek’s front door, smiling to herself when she heard a dog barking inside. She had the day off from work and was ahead of her classmates in the classes she had for the day, so she decided to ditch them and come to Beacon Hills, instead.

Derek opened the door with a guarded expression on his face, and then squinted curiously at the sight of the beautiful red-head on the other side of the door. He grunted and put a leg in front of Axl, trying to keep the husky from darting past the door. “No, Axl. Down. Go sit down.” He murmured before looking back at the girl. “Hi. Can I help you?”

Lydia laughed. “Maybe you can, Derek. I’m Lydia. I came here to see how you and Stiles are doing.”

Derek’s face lit up and he smiled at her. “Lydia! It’s good to finally meet you. Come in.” He grabbed Axl by the collar and held him back before gesturing for Lydia to enter the house. “Ah. Stiles and I are fine. Doing very well. Do you want a drink?”

“Sure.” Lydia agreed, walking in and looking around. She sat down on the couch and leaned forward to pet Axl. “I know I should have called first, but it’s not a surprise if I do that, is it?” She laughed. “I was going to ask both of you to come visit us this weekend. Erica misses Stiles already, and Isaac... well, Isaac doesn’t care about anyone but himself, me and Erica. But I don’t think Stiles likes him, either.”

Derek laughed and promptly lost his hold on Axl’s collar when the dog lunged forward to jump on the couch beside Lydia. He shook his head. “Well, we were actually planning to head to Vegas this weekend.” He admitted. “For fun, and because - well, it’s time away. He enrolled in school. Today’s his first day there, and I know it’s ridiculous to think he needs the time off already, but we might as well, right?”

Axl huffed in response and curled up next to Lydia, dropping his massive head in her lap.

“I don’t miss high school at all.” Lydia laughed. “It was terrible. So I approve, vacation time is good.”

Derek smiled at her. “You know, you never answered if you’d like a drink or not. I’ve got pretty much anything you could want.”

“Oh. Yes.” Lydia nodded. “You know what, if you have some red wine, I’d like that.”

Derek raised his eyebrows, but nodded. “Red wine it is.” He pointed at the dog. “Behave.”

Axl raised blue eyes to Derek and let out a whine.

Derek snorted, disappearing into the kitchen. He made his way back not long after, a decanter of wine in one hand with two long-stemmed glasses in the other. He set a glass down in front of Lydia, pouring a decent amount into it before doing likewise for himself. “You seem to have made a new friend.” He commented. “I’m sure if the others would come out of their hiding spots, you’d be surrounded.”

“How many dogs do you have?” Lydia picked up her glass of wine and took a sip.

“Two. Axl has a sister that I named Ayla. But I also have a cat, Charlie. You’ll probably catch her spying on you from the shadows at some point. Ayla hides in my room when there are guests, at least until she figures she’s safe.”

Lydia smiled. “One day, I’ll have a house. And a couple of dogs.” She sat back and looked around the room again. “Just as soon as I’m done with college and can stop paying for textbooks.”

Derek grinned, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a sip. “How much longer do you have to go?”

“I have two more semesters.” Lydia nodded. “I started when I was sixteen. This time next year, I’ll have a Master’s.”

“Wow.” Derek stared at her. “I’m impressed. That’s incredible. What are you getting your Masters in? What are you thinking of doing?”

“Mathematics.” Lydia murmured. “I’d like to work on something important, of course. I think that’s all anyone wants when they choose to major in math. My goal is to be the first woman to win the Fields Medal.”

Derek smiled faintly. “I think you could succeed.” He murmured, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

Lydia nodded. She wasn’t blind and it hadn’t escaped her attention that Derek was attractive, but she wasn’t sure what sort of relationship she and Isaac had. She was still trying to decide if that was an excuse or a reason as she took another drink from her wine glass.

Derek mimicked her, taking another drink. “So. Erica misses Stiles, hmm?”

“Yeah, she does. She couldn’t come with me today, though. She had to work.”

“Shame.” Derek murmured. “I’ve been wanting to meet you.” He paused. “And her, I mean. Isaac, not so much, honestly. Stiles just hasn’t… Um, I don’t really want to say anything bad.” He smiled a little. “So I’ll refrain.”

Lydia laughed. “I’ve wanted to meet you, also. And I can imagine what Stiles says where Isaac can’t hear, I’ve heard what they say about one another when they’re in each others’ company.”

Derek’s lips twitched. “It’s not favorable, I take it?” He laughed. Without looking away from Lydia, he lifted his arm and moved his wine glass out of the way, just in time for a black and white kitten to dive into his lap. “This would be Charlie, by the way.” He grinned faintly, tapping at the black streak above the kitten’s mouth that resembled a mustache and yelping when it earned him a needle sharp tooth in his finger. “Ow, goddammit -” He sighed. “Anyway. Charlie Chaplin, you know?”

Lydia grinned and reached out, picking the kitten up. “That’s adorable.”

Derek watched her steadily, clearing his throat. His cheeks were faintly red. “Well. Um, it just - the name just came to me, and she’s more than earned it, she’s just as ridiculous as he was.” He reached out a hand to scratch at Charlie’s belly, grinning when the kitten flailed all four paws in the air and squirmed.

Axl turned his head to sniff at Charlie curiously, then huffed and licked the kitten’s face, earning a meow of protest.

Lydia glanced down at her watch, then looked back up at Derek. “It’ll be how long before Stiles is done with his classes for the day?”

Derek glanced at the display on the DVR before looking back at Lydia. “About four hours, or so.”

Lydia nodded. She stood up, finishing her wine and carrying the glass into the kitchen to rinse it, not wanting the animals to have a chance to get whatever dregs might be in the bottom of her glass.

Derek stared after her, a faint smile on his face. He stood up and followed her, carrying his mostly-full wine glass and the decanter with him. “Thank you for that.” He said quietly, ducking his head down a bit to get a bit closer to her, his chest lightly pressing against her back.

“I thought it was the right thing to do.” Lydia murmured, pressing back against Derek.

Derek shut his eyes, exhaling slowly as his hands crept around her waist. His head bent down and his lips just barely touched her skin.

Lydia smiled and turned in Derek’s grasp, kissing him. She laughed a little as she looked up at him. “Show me your bedroom?”

Derek smiled slowly at her, bending down a bit to lift her into his arms. “I can do that.” He murmured, and carried her up the stairs, his hands firmly holding her small body against his.


	10. Family Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t realize how damaged he is.” Melissa blurted. “He’s going to need a lot of help. Probably a therapist.”
> 
> John sighed. “I don’t know the first thing to do. Or the first steps to take. We were at the store the other day, and I was buying him what he needed for school, but he kept insisting that he would pay me back. But I don’t need him to pay me back.” He rubbed his eyes. “Except, telling him that makes me feel like he’d revolt, or run. I don’t want him to do either.”

Stiles knocked on his dad’s front door, holding a plastic bag in his other hand. He hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt, but he figured it was already too late for that.

John opened the door with a grin. “Hey. Glad you could make it, son.” He greeted, the word slipping out without a thought. He stepped back and gestured for Stiles to come in. “Melissa’s already here, Scott’s running a bit late.”

“Oh.” Stiles nodded, taking a deep breath as he walked into the house. “I, uh, made dessert. I mean, I figure you guys probably had that covered, but I wasn’t sure and... anyway, here.” He held the plastic bag out to John. “It’s apple cake. Nothing that big of a deal, really. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to. Or if you’re allergic or something.”

“Stiles,” John laughed softly. “Stop. I’m not allergic, and I definitely want to eat this cake. I might eat the whole thing. I love apple cake.” He paused, debating whether or not he should attempt to hide it from his girlfriend in order to keep it to himself, and then sighed. “Damn it, they’ll fight me for it.” He muttered.

“You’re assuming I’m good.” Stiles snorted. “It’s just something... I just kind of threw it together.”

“I have a nose.” John pointed out. “I can smell it. I think I might be drooling, just from smelling it. I’ll find out later when I taste it, but I’m pretty sure things that smell good usually taste phenomenal.”

“Okay.” Stiles murmured. “Do you need me to do anything?”

John thought for a moment, and then said, “If you want to, you can set the table for four. We’re almost done, I think.”

Stiles went into the kitchen and started gathering dishes and silverware, carrying all of it into the dining room to set the table. He went back for glasses and napkins a moment later.

“Thank you.” John murmured, setting the cake on the table at the very end. He paused, looking at Stiles thoughtfully. “Are you nervous, a little?” He asked curiously.

“No, I’m nervous a lot.” Stiles admitted. “I already know Scott doesn’t like me, there’s nothing I can do about that. But I don’t want Melissa to dislike me.” He paused. “Am I allowed to call her Melissa? Should I say ‘Ms. McCall,’ instead? Or ‘Scott’s mom?’”

“We can ask her.” John suggested. “It’s really up to her what she’s comfortable with you calling her, I mean.”

Melissa walked downstairs, her hair damp. “Oh, you’re already here?” She blurted, looking at Stiles. “Not that... I mean, of course, you’re welcome to be here. I just thought I had more time.”

John smiled at her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Come here, come…” He took a deep breath. “Come meet my son.”

Melissa nodded and took a couple of steps forward, holding her hand out. She gave Stiles a confused smile when the teen laughed.

“It’s nothing you did.” Stiles explained. “Everyone here shakes hands. It’s different. Sorry.” He shook Melissa’s hand. “Mice to neat you. I mean... shit. No, shit!” He sighed. “I want to start over.”

Melissa smiled. “It’s okay. Don’t be nervous. I’m a nurse. The things I’ve seen and heard over the years have prepared me for just about anything.”

Stiles’ lips twitched, but he didn’t ask if she wanted to trade stories.

John watched them both, smiling. His arm wrapped around Melissa’s waist, and he gave her an affectionate squeeze.

“Scott should be here soon.” Melissa leaned against John.

John nodded. “So we can sit in the dining room, or we can get something to drink and have a seat in the living room before he arrives.” He glanced over his shoulder when the front door opened. “Or, we can just start now.” He leaned toward Melissa and whispered, “Brace for fireworks.”

Scott flew into the house. “Sorry I’m late, Mom, John, I got caught up with - what are you doing here?” He snapped, glaring at Stiles.

“Scott.” Melissa shook her head at her son.

“I’m here to have dinner with my dad.” Stiles smiled faintly. “What are you doing here?”

“Having dinner with my mom and…” Scott trailed off and stared at Stiles. “Your dad?” His head swung toward John, looking betrayed. “You have a son?”

John straightened, frowning at Scott. “I do. He’s my son with my… she was going to be my wife. Why are you upset? This was years before I ever even built anything with your mother.”

Scott didn’t answer, turning to stare at Stiles once more. “What is your deal? Are you just here to mooch off of him? Because he’s a really good guy, and he doesn’t deserve that, he doesn’t deserve to be taken advantage of.”

“Scott!” John snapped. “Enough!”

Stiles shook his head. “This probably wasn’t the best idea. I’ll just...” He shrugged and took a step back, toward the door. “I’ll come back some other time.”

John surged forward, reaching for Stiles. “No, Stiles - please. Please stay. I’m sorry about Scott, but - please, I don’t want you to… I don’t want you to go. Please.”

“My son must have lost his manners somewhere.” Melissa remarked, frowning at Scott. “Maybe you should go look for them after dinner?”

Scott stared at Melissa in shock. “But, Mom - this is the guy that keeps coming out of nowhere and giving me problems!” He protested.

“What kind of problems?” Melissa looked from Scott to Stiles, folding her arms across her chest.

Scott faltered. “Well… he, uh, he brought a cat to me the first time I saw him and when I suggested that he adopt it, he yelled at me and said he couldn’t afford it.”

“I yelled at you because I told you once that I couldn’t do it, and you kept insisting that I should be able to.” Stiles pointed out. “For someone who thinks my life goal is to scam my own biological father out of money, you sure do want me to spend a lot.”

Scott gaped at him, croaking. He looked at his mother and pointed at Stiles. “I left the locker room the other day and saw him making out with Jackson Whittemore, and he might as well have accused me of being homophobic!” He blurted.

John put his head in his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus.” He muttered, shaking his head.

Stiles ran his hand over his face and looked at Melissa. “I’m sorry.” He murmured. “I did snap at him, yeah. But what happened was, um, I was kissing Jackson when Scott came out of the locker room and said something like ‘whoa’ and I asked him why he was staring at us. I lost my temper after that and I don’t remember what else was said, but I know I wasn’t nice about it.”

Melissa stared back at Stiles. “I see.” She turned toward Scott. “So what it sounds like to me is that you nagged him to take care of a kitten and made him uncomfortable, then you made him uncomfortable while he was kissing someone... which he shouldn’t have been doing at school, but that’s beside the point. And then you came here and accused him of extortion?”

Scott stared at her with wide eyes. “Mom, but - I didn’t - he’s been a jerk since the first time I met him, I was perfectly nice to him when he walked in with the kitten, I only…” He stopped talking, trailing off gradually in frustration.

John stared at Scott with a pinched expression, and moved over to Stiles’ side. “I don’t know what exactly your problem with him stemmed from, Scott, and I don’t care. I really don’t. The fact of the matter is that he’s my son - my son, and the son of someone I loved very much who isn’t around anymore. I want him here. I want to get to know him, and I want you and your mother to get to know him… even if you don’t seem to want to.” He glanced at Stiles, and then wrapped an arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “He’s my kid, Scott. I want him in my life.”

“Uh...” Stiles raised a hand, knowing he was probably ruining the moment, but the worst of it was over, anyway. “I don’t really care if you like me or not, I just want to get through dinner.”

John’s lips twitched a little. “Sit down, Scott.” He said. He squeezed Stiles’ shoulder. “You, too. Come on.” He held a hand out to Melissa, wrapping his fingers around hers.

Scott furrowed his brows, but trudged unhappily toward his usual seat at the table, slumping into it.

Stiles waited for everyone else to sit down before he took the last remaining seat. He started serving himself before he realized he should have at least asked first. “Crap, sorry.” He murmured, sitting back in his seat.

“Hey, no apologies.” John said firmly. “If we didn’t start serving ourselves without permission, we’d never eat, kiddo. Go ahead and take what you want.”

Stiles smiled in relief and went back to loading his plate.

Melissa laughed a little and started serving herself, too. “You’d think you hadn’t eaten in a year.” She remarked.

Stiles paused as he reached for the vegetables. “Well, I’m not starving, no.” He murmured. “And I’m not trying to bring you guys down, either. But yeah, it’s kind of become a bad habit, I guess. I learned that if there’s food, might as well eat what you can because your next meal could be awhile.” He shrugged.

“You won’t have to worry about that now.” Melissa smiled. “You’ve got your dad here.”

John straightened up at Melissa’s words, smiling proudly. He set his hand on top of hers, squeezing gently.

Scott didn’t utter a word. He loaded his plate slowly, though, feeling his stomach turn over a little at the idea that the boy in front of him had basically had to scrape for food, and gorge when he could.

Melissa glanced at Scott, then looked back at Stiles. “So you were at school, though? You’ve enrolled?”

“Yeah.” Stiles shrugged again, then grimaced at himself. “I sort of dropped out awhile back and thought I’d maybe get my GED, but I don’t really have... I can’t get a job right now, I’m not even sixteen yet. So the GED would be pointless and I’d have nothing to do all day. It just seemed smarter to go to school, instead.”

John leaned forward. “I can see if I can get you a work permit.” He told Stiles. “It shouldn’t be a problem at all. Have you talked to anyone at all about working? Has Derek said anything?”

“Yeah, he knows somebody that does, uh, gardening. Or something like that. I might just go sweep the floors or something, maybe. It’s better than nothing.” Stiles mused. “I think I’m not going to bother even trying to play lacrosse, though. Maybe next year. Sophomore year.” He paused. “Or junior year? I’m not sure how they classify it, some of my classes are more advanced than others. They had me in intro Spanish, but I’m supposed to be in a higher one, starting tomorrow. I’m not so great at math. Or science. And the teacher hates me. Harris. But it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before, it almost feels like home.” He snorted.

“You have a new home now.” John blurted, looking at Stiles. “So… maybe rethink that feeling.” He was silent for a moment, then sighed. “Harris is an ass. He’s always been an ass, there’s no way around him other than to just avoid him. Most of the time, anyway.” He ate quietly for a moment. “If Derek can help you find a job, I’d say go for it. Whatever he’s got, I mean, whatever you’d be able to do.” He shrugged. “Gardening, or sweeping the floors, or whatever… it’s better than not having a job at all.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah.” He murmured. He bit his lip, looking across the table at Scott. “How did you get hired at the clinic?”

Scott faltered, looking at Stiles awkwardly. “Oh, um...It was - he was offering the job, and I applied and everything, and he called me in that day and barely gave me a second interview before he said ‘you can have the job here if you want.’” And that was that.” He tilted his head. “I always thought it was sort of weird that he hired me that fast, though. I don’t know.”

Stiles looked concerned. “Does he ever say stuff that makes you feel gross?”

Scott shook his head. “No. It was just sort of like… like he knew I needed the job. Or knew that I was the one for the job. So he, like, held it for me.”

“Oh, well, that’s good.” Stiles murmured, taking a bite of food from his plate. He was quiet, keeping his eyes on his plate because he could practically feel Melissa staring at him.

John patted Melissa’s hand gently, stroking her fingers. “Everything okay?” He asked her quietly.

“Actually, could we go into the kitchen?” Melissa murmured, getting up and walking out of the dining room without waiting for a response.

John stood and followed her in without another word, pausing at the counter and looking up at her.

“I didn’t realize how damaged he is.” Melissa blurted. “He’s going to need a lot of help. Probably a therapist.”

John sighed. “I don’t know the first thing to do. Or the first steps to take. We were at the store the other day, and I was buying him what he needed for school, but he kept insisting that he would pay me back. But I don’t need him to pay me back.” He rubbed his eyes. “Except, telling him that makes me feel like he’d revolt, or run. I don’t want him to do either.”

“So let him pay you back.” Melissa murmured. “But maybe tell him you won’t take the money unless he’s had a meal with you first. Or seen a movie? Something.”

“I told him I wanted him to start coming around the house when he could, or around the station, if that’s where I am, so we could start getting to know each other.” He said quietly. “I figured it was best to start off with something that wasn’t too demanding.”

Melissa nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how this was affecting you.” She put her arms around John and hugged him.

John hugged her back tightly, burying his face in the curls of her hair. “I guess I didn’t really realize how it was affecting me, either.” He murmured. “I mean… I have a son. I never thought that - I thought after Claudia left, that I just wouldn’t…” He exhaled softly.

Melissa smiled. “But now you do. And we should probably get back in there before he eats the rest of our dinner.” She teased.

“Smart thinking.” John grinned, pressing his lips to her jaw. Winding an arm around her, he led her back into the dining room and pulled her seat back out for her.

Stiles gave his dad a curious look, but turned his head to look at Scott again, instead. He tried to think of something else to ask the other teen, wanting to make the effort to get along with him during dinner, at least. “So, what else do you do?”

Scott fiddled with his fork, thinking. “Um… skateboarding, I guess. I’m on the lacrosse team - but you know that… Uh…” He furrowed his brow. “Not much else, I don’t think.”

Stiles nodded. “Okay.” He murmured, feeling like he was at a loss. He glanced down at his empty plate, then took a drink from his glass of water.

“I like video games.” Scott offered hesitantly after a moment. “John let me set up a gaming system here… if you wanted to play, I mean.”

Stiles rubbed his eye, thinking. “Uh, maybe... rain-check on that?” He suddenly felt like going back to Derek’s house or maybe dropping in on Jackson.

Scott looked down. “Sure.” He said softly, trailing his fork over the mess on his plate.

John studied the two boys, frowning. “Is everything alright?” He asked them. “Stiles? You okay, son?”

“I need to go.” Stiles murmured, getting up. “I’m sorry. Dinner was great, I just have some stuff I have to do. But I’ll come back sometime next week, if that’s cool?”

John stood up as well, sighing internally and trying to convince himself that dinner hadn’t been a massive failure. “Of course it is.” He said, and clapped Stiles gently on the shoulder. He paused for a brief moment, and then hesitantly reached out to hug Stiles. “It was good having you here. Thank you for coming.”

Stiles hesitated, then hugged back. “Yeah, no problem.” He nodded. “Uh, yeah, the cake... go ahead and have it without me. If it sucks, I won’t make it again. Just let me know.” He waved toward Scott and Melissa, then walked outside.

Melissa turned toward Scott. “You’ve never had a problem with anyone in your entire life, why now?”

Scott looked down. “I don’t know.” He mumbled.

Melissa threw her hands up in frustration and groaned.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles grinned. “Well, if you see me acclimating, you know what you have to do. Make me jump off of a cliff.” He bit his lip, wondering if she would get the reference. 
> 
> Allison’s lips twitched. “Sounds razor.”
> 
> Stiles’ eyes lit up and he nodded. “Science is god.”

Stiles knocked on Jackson’s window, then dragged his sleeve across his eyes and squinted in at the other teen. 

Jackson opened the window, looking out at Stiles in confusion. “Hey. Are you - come in.” He said, reaching for Stiles’ hands and tugging him inside the room. “Come here.” He wrapped his arms around the other boy’s waist, stroking his hands over Stiles’ sides. “You okay?”

Stiles opened his mouth, then closed it and nodded. “I just wanted to see you.” He blurted. “I know that’s weird. Sorry.” 

Jackson grinned a little. “It’s not weird.” He murmured. “I was just thinking about wanting to see you, too.”

Stiles smiled back, kissing Jackson and glancing around the room as he spoke. “I had to have dinner with my dad earlier. Scott and his mom were there. Uh, my dad’s dating his mom.” He snorted. “It just felt like... they’re all sitting there and eating calmly and I’m stuffing my face like a dumbass, you know? I ended up saying stuff about myself and then Scott’s mom pulled my dad into the other room to talk to him and Scott wanted to play video games. I had to get out of there.” 

Jackson looked bewildered, moving toward the bed and sitting down on it, tugging Stiles down with him. “Okay… bizarre that McCall would want to play video games and shit. But… that would mean you were over at the sheriff’s house earlier.” He squinted at Stiles. “Your dad is the sheriff? Huh.” He peered at the other boy. “Did they say anything to you about how you were eating? Because that’s nobody’s fucking business.”

“No, that wasn’t it.” Stiles shook his head. “Sometimes, being around normal people makes me feel sick. Like they’re never going to get it, you know?” He turned toward Jackson. “I want to tell you stuff, though. Everything. I feel like you’d understand.” 

Jackson rubbed Stiles’ back gently and sighed. “I probably would. I’m adopted. So… it always sort of feels like everyone else around me is part of something, and I’m just… frozen out.”

Stiles kissed Jackson again. “I was in foster care from the time I was six until I ran away from there, a few months ago. I’ve had about fifteen or sixteen different sets of foster parents. My dad didn’t know he had a kid and I didn’t even know his name until about a week ago.” 

Jackson kissed him back slowly. “I don’t know who the fuck my parents were.” He murmured. “I know they’re dead. I got adopted when I was a baby.” He leaned back against the mattress. 

Stiles laid on his side, running his hand up and down Jackson’s chest and abdomen as he looked at him. “This girl I know, Lydia, could probably help you find out who they were. She’s some kind of genius or something. She found out that my mom and dad were engaged and would have gotten married, but my mom bailed on the wedding.” He lifted his head to kiss Jackson. “It’s like... people either don’t give a shit about asking me questions, or they want to know how I feel about everything I went through. Fucking fantastic.” He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Every kid wants to get shuffled around from house to house and be treated like shit, right? I’m not the nicest guy, I know that. I’m pretty much an asshole.” He murmured. “But I don’t regret things I’ve done or things I’m gonna do.” 

Jackson tilted his head and kissed Stiles back slowly. “I wouldn’t. You did what you had to do to make it.” His arm wrapped around the other teen’s waist. “I don’t think I really want to know anything about them. Maybe they’re just… better off in the ground, without anyone disturbing them.”

“You don’t even know their names?” Stiles asked, sitting up and taking his shirt off. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to have sex, with how distraught he was. But he wanted to lay down with Jackson and possibly fall asleep beside him. 

Jackson shook his head slowly, running a hand against Stiles’ hip. “I know the names are out there. They have to be. Death announcements, I mean. But… I mean, I think a part of me just… really doesn’t want to know what they are. Like it would somehow make it more real, like it isn’t already.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah.” He murmured. “That’s how I felt for a long time, too.” 

Jackson exhaled softly, resting his head back against his pillow. His arms wrapped around Stiles’ waist. “But you have a dad. Your real dad, I mean. That’s… I don’t regret my parents and what they’ve done for me. But I wish I had a chance to get to know who my real parents are.”

“You could, though. I know it wouldn’t be the same thing. But you could at least learn about them. Maybe find people who knew them. See what they have to say about your mom and dad.” Stiles suggested. “I’ll help.” 

Jackson studied Stiles for a long moment, then exhaled softly. “Maybe.” He murmured, looking hesitant. “I just… I don’t want to find out that they were… I don’t know. Druggies or something.”

“Do you want me to find out and then tell you if I find out something good, and lie if I don’t?” Stiles smiled softly. 

Jackson snorted out a soft laugh, stroking his fingers over Stiles’ back. “Well…” He hesitated again. “Maybe…. Yes.”

Stiles grinned. “Okay.” He kissed Jackson again. “Whatever you want, I’ll help.” 

Jackson cupped Stiles’ face with one hand and kissed him back.

*****

Stiles opened his locker the next morning and leaned in against it, sighing. Homeroom was the biggest waste of time he had ever endured, and he had once accepted a ride from a guy that insisted on listening to banjo music for the three hours that Stiles was stuck in the car with him. 

Allison walked slowly along with the principal, nodding as he explained the school rules and what would be expected of her as a student. She kept her books clutched to her chest, looking up every once in awhile.

Stiles grabbed his book for English and closed his locker, turning around as the principal and a brunette walked toward him. He nodded to her, then glanced toward the principal, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly before he glanced at the girl again and winked, smirking. 

Allison stared at the boy, biting her lower lip to force back a giggle, even though she couldn’t quite conceal her grin. She shrugged a shoulder, rolling her own eyes.

Stiles glanced at the principal again, then crooked a finger at Allison. He doubted the man would even notice her being gone. 

Allison bit her lip, glancing briefly at the principal before she simply stopped walking and let him carry on ahead of her. She walked over to Stiles curiously. “Hi,” she murmured.

“Hey.” Stiles smiled. “Don’t worry, he won’t even realize you’re not following him until he gets back down the hall. I dealt with this a couple of days ago. If I had the right connections, I could have been selling drugs right in front of him.” He snorted. “Maybe.” 

Allison looked amused. “I kind of got that impression. Not about the drugs, I mean, but about his lack of attention.” She bit her lower lip again, watching him steadily. “I’m Allison.”

“I’m Stiles. Thank all that’s holy that you’re not making me shake your hand.” He snorted. “It’s a thing here. I swear to god it’s like living in Mayberry.” 

Allison laughed. “I’m from New York, but my dad used to live here years ago. He shakes everyone’s hand. I’m pretty convinced it’s a cult thing.”

Stiles grinned. “Well, if you see me acclimating, you know what you have to do. Make me jump off of a cliff.” He bit his lip, wondering if she would get the reference. 

Allison’s lips twitched. “Sounds razor.”

Stiles’ eyes lit up and he nodded. “Science is god.” He laughed. “I kind of love you a little bit.” 

Allison blushed a little, grinning back. “This is so sudden.” She teased him, stepping a little closer.

“Does that mean we can’t get married yet?” Stiles smirked. 

“Only if you’re willing to drive.” Allison murmured, raising her fingers to her mouth and tapping playfully at her lower lip.

“Damn it, I don’t have my license yet. I think I can get us bus tickets, though. Are you free this weekend?” Stiles laughed. 

“Well, let’s see.” Allison made a show of opening her phone’s calendar and checking her events. “Seeing as I just moved here… Oh, look at that. I’m free.”

“I’m actually going to Las Vegas.” Stiles leaned back against his locker. “So this could happen.” He smiled. 

Allison looked intrigued. “Really? So… if you actually wanted me to, I could go with you?”

“Yeah.” Stiles nodded. “It wouldn’t even be legal, but we could do it just for the hell of it anyway, you know? We already know we have the same taste in movies and a lack of respect for authority. This could work.” 

Allison giggled. “So you’re not seeing anyone, then?” She asked, leaning against the locker beside him.

“Well, I am. But it’s new and I think he’ll be cool with it.” Stiles looked around for Jackson. 

Allison looked surprised, following his gaze. She gave him a dubious look. “Really?”

Jackson walked out of class, peering around the hallway for Stiles and spotting him easily. He furrowed his brow at Allison, approaching them slowly. “Uh. Hi.” He greeted carefully.

“Hey.” Stiles leaned toward Jackson for a kiss. “She’s new, I figured I’d save her from the agony of dealing with the principal telling her to be a good little automaton, and now we’re planning to elope.” 

Jackson kissed Stiles back in confusion. “Huh?” He blurted, looking at Allison before staring back at Stiles. “You’re… are you joking?”

Stiles laughed. “I’m fifteen, so yeah, kinda?” He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be legal, anyway.” 

Allison shifted a little, glancing at Jackson. “Um, I didn’t - it wasn’t serious, really.”

Jackson furrowed his brows, eyeing her for a moment. “Okay.” He mumbled.

“Sorry.” Stiles murmured. 

Jackson cleared his throat awkwardly, and then sighed. “No, I’m sorry.” He muttered. “We never said we were exclusive, and I’m acting like a jealous fuckwit.”

“Do you want to be exclusive?” Stiles murmured. “And it’s fine, the implication of two people admitting an attraction is that they’re not going looking for someone else.” 

Jackson rubbed at his face. “I kind of thought we would be, but I’m not - if you’d rather not be, it’s not a big deal.”

“I want to be.” Stiles blurted, staring at Jackson. 

“Are you sure?” Jackson asked, staring back at Stiles. “Because - I mean, if you want to fuck other people, then… I won’t tell you you can’t.” He glanced briefly at Allison.

Stiles faltered, remembering his actual reason for going to Las Vegas. “I’ll... uh, I’ll let you know.” 

Jackson exhaled slowly, nodding. “Okay. Fair enough.” 

Stiles glanced at Allison, feeling embarrassed. 

Allison chewed on her lower lip awkwardly, fidgeting in place. “Um. I guess I’d… better get to my first class.” She said softly, glancing between both boys. A piece of paper that she’d been toying with before Jackson had come over made its way into her hand, and she stretched her hand out to shake Stiles’, a crooked smile on her face. She palmed the paper over to him. “I’ll see you later.”

Stiles nodded, keeping his expression blank, even though he was more than a little awestruck by what Allison had just done. 

Winking, Allison turned to walk away, and she smiled awkwardly at Jackson as she did.

Jackson nodded back, pretending not to notice the paper in Stiles’ hand. “We should probably get moving, too.” He said quietly.

Stiles nodded again, following Jackson to English. He shifted the paper to the hand that was clutching the book for class, then adjusted his jeans with his free hand, grimacing. When he sat down in class, he sent Allison a quick text. ‘Hey, it’s me.’ 

‘Hi, me.’ Allison texted back teasingly. ‘Thanks for messaging me.’

Stiles snorted to himself and glanced up to make sure he wasn’t being watched by the teacher before he sent another text. ‘So does this mean Vegas is off?’

There was a beat before Allison replied. ‘Not necessarily. We don’t have to elope, but I could still join you for some fun, if you wanted.’

‘I want.’ Stiles hit send and glanced around, realizing everyone else had their book open. He hurried to open his to the right page, glancing back down at his phone and grinning. 

‘Cool. I want, too.’ Allison had texted back. ‘What else do you want? Just want to see if we’re on the same page.’ There was a picture attached of Allison’s face, her lips pursed thoughtfully and a finger tapping at her chin. The background of the picture was a bit blurry, but seemed to be the girl’s restroom.

Stiles bit his lip, thinking. ‘I want to see what you look like with no shirt on.’ 

Allison texted back another photo not long after that. Her phone had apparently been propped on something, her arm reaching out of the frame to tilt it down, and her other arm was raised and tucked behind her head. Her back was arched, her breasts in clear view in the picture. ‘How’s this?’

‘Sexy as hell.’ Stiles pressed a hand over his mouth and fought back a frustrated groan. 

Another photo appeared, this time of one of Allison’s hands cupping one of her breasts, her fingers lightly framing a nipple. ‘You sound like you want to touch.’

‘I do, yeah.’ Stiles cleared his throat and raised his hand. “Uh, I need to go to the bathroom.” 

The teacher straightened and frowned at Stiles. “You just had five minutes to go before class started.” She protested. She sighed and wrote out a pass. “Fine. Here you go.” She held the pass out.

Stiles’ phone buzzed with several new messages, each one containing a new photo of Allison in various states of undress. The last photo was of Allison’s parted thighs, a finger and thumb lightly spreading her lips apart. The only text attached said, ‘Hurry.’

Stiles grabbed the pass and waited until he was in the hall before he sprinted to the nearest girls’ bathroom. “Are you here?” 

Allison’s low moan answered him. “Uh-huh. No one’s here but me. Lock the door behind you.”

Stiles locked the door. “Okay, come out here.” He smiled. 

One of the stalls opened, and Allison stood in the doorway briefly before approaching him. Despite her bravado over the phone, her cheeks were red and she shifted a little shyly before she stood in front of him. Her lips quirked, and she reached for his hand, lifting it to her breast.

Stiles cupped Allison’s breast and kissed her, putting his other arm around her waist. “I thought I was going to fall out of my chair.” He laughed. “I don’t even know what I want to do first, with you.” 

Allison kissed him back, giggling. “Well, maybe you could…” She trailed off, grabbing the hand around her waist and dragging it between her legs.

Stiles stroked his fingers over Allison’s clit, then pressed two inside her as he kissed her neck. “Like that?” 

Allison’s head tilted back, her hips arching up to take him in. “Uh-huh.” She breathed, putting her hands on his shoulders.

Stiles pushed a third finger inside Allison, lifting his head to kiss her again as he pushed her back against the wall. 

Allison let out a loud moan, winding her arms around his neck, kissing back eagerly as she ground her hips against his hand.

Stiles unfastened his jeans and pushed them and his boxers down, lifting Allison’s hips and wrapping her legs around his waist as he guided himself into her. 

Allison sank down on him, staring at him and moaning softly. She tightened her legs around his waist and arched, lifting herself up with her hands braced on his shoulders, rotated her hips, and then sank down against him once more. She bent her head down and nibbled at his jaw. “You feel so big.” She whimpered.

Stiles grinned and started thrusting harder into her. “And you’re really wet.” He murmured. “God. I knew this was going to happen the second I saw you.” 

Allison grunted with each thrust, panting. “Yeah, yes. Me too, god.” She bit at his shoulder, sucking roughly. “I’ve been wet since I saw you.” She told him. 

“Yeah?” Stiles smiled and shifted his weight, his lips closing over one of Allison’s nipples. 

Allison moaned again, putting a hand on the back of Stiles’ head, watching him eagerly. “Do you want to fuck my mouth before you come?” She asked, breathing shallowly.

“Yeah.” Stiles repeated. “But after you do.” He pulled out, holding her up in his arms as he moved to his knees and sucked on her clit. 

Allison yelped, her head flying back and smacking lightly against the wall. She reached down and twined her fingers in Stiles’ hair, yanking lightly and tugging him close. 

Stiles groaned and went back to fingering Allison as he closed his eyes, moving up a little on his knees to encourage her to pull his hair a little harder. 

Allison pulled roughly. “God, your mouth,” she whined, thrusting down against Stiles’ fingers. “Your hands.” Her body began to shake, and she shuddered, coming.

Stiles lapped at her, then stood up and kissed her. 

Allison cooed softly, kissing him back and licking at his mouth before she sank down to her own knees and nuzzled against his cock, gracing it with tiny kitten licks and nibbles before she wrapped her mouth around him completely.

Stiles groaned, tilting his head back. “God, fuck. I seriously...” He bit his lip. “Your mouth feels so good.” 

Allison moaned softly, shuffling forward on her knees and burrowing closer, attempting to swallow Stiles down, her throat tightening and working around him hungrily.

Stiles came, gripping Allison’s hair as his eyelashes fluttered. 

Allison swallowed, whimpering softly around him, her hand stroking Stiles’ hips up and down. 

Stiles stepped back, smiling as he helped Allison stand up. “You're incredible.” 

Allison wobbled to her feet, grinning widely at him. “I think you are, too.” She told him.

Stiles turned toward the sinks and started washing his face. “Still wanna come with me to Vegas?” 

Allison mimicked him, walking shakily to a sink and washing herself clean as best as she could before she started getting dressed. She nodded. “If you still want me to.”

“I really do.” Stiles murmured. “I might invite Jackson along, too. I just don’t know how he’d feel about it. I think he might be hurt right now.” 

Allison sidled up to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then another to his jaw. “I could do something about that, maybe. Both of us could.”

“Yeah?” Stiles nodded. “Okay, let’s go find him.” He turned his head to kiss her, then unlocked the door and peered out to make sure it was safe before he left the bathroom. 

Allison scooted out of the doorway after him, looking around warily before she wound her fingers around his, giving him a quick smile.

Stiles smiled back and walked over to Jackson’s locker, tapping his shoulder and taking a step to his right, moving just behind the other boy. 

Jackson turned to look at Stiles, his eyes darting to Allison briefly. He cleared his throat. “Yeah?” He tried not to be upset - he could practically smell the sex rolling off of them.

“Come to Las Vegas with us.” Stiles murmured. “Please?” 

Jackson pursed his lips tightly. “Why? You’ve got her, now, so what do you need me for?”

Allison bit her lip and moved closer to Jackson, placing a hand on Jackson’s stomach and sliding it up his chest. “We need you.” She murmured, pressing herself against his side. “Please?”

Jackson stared at her hand, and then slowly up at her before looking at Stiles. “Really?” He asked quietly.

“Really.” Stiles agreed, nodding. “You weren’t just a way to entertain myself, you know. That’s... I want you.” 

Jackson licked his lips carefully. “And her?” He asked, nodding at Allison.

Allison smiled crookedly. “I’m interested.” She murmured, and her hand moved down Jackson’s chest, into his waistband. “Very interested.”

Jackson jolted, staring at her with wide eyes and suddenly renewed interest. “I - uh. Okay.” He looked at Stiles, his mouth hanging open a little, and then nodded. “Okay.”

Stiles grinned and kissed Jackson. “Good.” He teased, turning when he heard people blatantly talking about the three of them. “Sorry, is there a problem? Because if you’re so concerned about who I let near my dick, I could just add you to the list.” 

Greenberg snorted. “Yeah, we’re just wondering how much you charge, that’s all. You’ve already got Whittemore panting after you, and you’ve managed to bone the new girl five minutes into her first day. What, do you inject crack right into your come or something?”

“One, you couldn’t afford me.” Stiles smirked at Greenberg. “Two, even if you could, I would still say no. And three, I don’t need additives. Wanna see why?” 

Greenberg approached dumbly, smirking back at Stiles haughtily. “Why?”

Stiles leaned back against the lockers and unfastened his jeans, his gaze on Greenberg as he freed himself from his boxers. “This is why.”

Greenberg kept staring at his face for a moment before he realized what Stiles had done.

Jackson’s lips twitched. “He’s not even hard.” He commented, sliding his arm around Stiles’ waist.

Allison’s lips curled up, and she leaned into Stiles’ side, wrapping her fingers around his cock lightly. “But when he is…” She shuddered.

Greenberg gaped, and then stared down at himself, letting out a pathetic noise and placing both hands over his own crotch in embarrassment.

Stiles laughed. “Any questions?” 

Greenberg shook his head numbly, avoiding looking in Stiles’ direction.

“Good.” Allison murmured, tucking Stiles back into his boxers with care, and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Stiles kissed Allison again, then Jackson. “I’ll probably be suspended by the end of the day.” He muttered. “Or expelled.” 

“No, you won’t.” Jackson murmured, dropping a kiss to Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles put his arms around Jackson and Allison, sighing and closing his eyes. 

Allison curled against him, resting her head against his.

Jackson rubbed Stiles’ back, smiling.

Stiles opened his eyes slowly and smiled. “You two will get to see what life’s been like for me, this weekend.” He murmured. “You might not like it.” 

“But we can handle it.” Jackson replied, looking at Stiles. “If we don’t like it, we don’t like it. But we aren’t going to abandon you or anything.”

“Yeah?” Stiles took a deep breath, looking at Jackson. “Have I told you yet today that you’re seriously hot?” He smiled. 

Jackson tilted his head, thinking about it. “No, I don’t think you have.” He teased, and cocked his head to the side, kissing Stiles with a grin.

Stiles grinned back. “Well, you’re seriously hot.” He laughed. 

“Well, thank you.” Jackson snorted, linking his arms around Stiles’ waist.

Allison squirmed against the both of them. “I think both of you are seriously hot.” She piped up.

Stiles lowered his voice as he spoke, looking at Allison. “So are you.” 

Jackson eyed Allison, with interest now instead of suspicion, and blatantly pressed his hand to her hip, sliding it over and around her to cup her ass. “You really are.”

Allison wiggled, practically preening with the attention and beaming at both boys.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m still trying to get the hang of this whole thing where I can rely on people. I’m not exactly there yet.”

Stiles had packed his threadbare jeans and his old t-shirt into his duffel bag, throwing it into the back of the van and getting in. He turned toward Jackson and Allison. “I’m working.” He explained. “Last chance to back out before we hit the road. Derek’s not my pimp or anything, but he’s cool with me doing what I want for money, and this is how I got from New Jersey to here. Except I wasn’t getting paid, I was getting rides.” He gave them a wary smile. “I promised him a cut of the money, since he’s driving and I’m using his van. I can’t afford a hotel room. And this is to pay him back for a ride he gave me before, without demanding sex in return. I also owe money to a couple of other people.” 

Allison glanced at Jackson before looking back at Stiles. “So… are we leaving now, then? And do you want help?”

Derek came out of the house, giving a sharp whistle as he carried his backpack to the van. “Everybody pile in if you’re going. Otherwise, you’ll be on pet-sitting duty and stuck in my house for the weekend.” He told them.

Jackson’s lips twitched as he watched Derek, and then shrugged, tossing his own bag into the van before climbing in. “What the hell, I can live dangerously.”

“You don’t have to help me.” Stiles answered Allison. “Just have fun. It’ll be a good weekend. I looked into the legal prices for this kind of thing, I figure I can charge at least half of what they’re earning. One place charges about ten thousand bucks for a night. If somebody wants to hand me five thousand for a couple of hours of me sucking their dick, I’m not going to complain about it.” 

Allison pecked his cheek. “Then we can double our income.” She pointed out. “If I help you, I mean.” Her eyes shone with delight. “I don’t mind it.”

“Earn for yourself, not for me.” Stiles murmured. “I’m still trying to get the hang of this whole thing where I can rely on people. I’m not exactly there yet.” 

Allison turned and buried her face against his neck. “Yes, Stiles.” She replied softly, nuzzling against him.

Stiles smiled, turning his head toward Allison and kissing her. 

Allison crooned softly, kissing him back with a smile.

Stiles turned toward Jackson as he put an arm around Allison. “Come up here and sit with us.” 

Allison shifted until she was in Stiles’ lap, and then patted the empty seat, smiling at Jackson. 

Jackson’s lips twitched, and he slid into the van, settling beside the two of them.

Stiles kissed Jackson’s shoulder. “This is going to be a great weekend. I swear.” 

Jackson tilted his head forward and kissed Stiles’ jaw. “I believe you.” He murmured, and then kissed Allison’s shoulder softly.

Stiles ran his fingers over the back of Jackson’s neck. “Look at how good you are.” He murmured, leaning in to kiss his earlobe. “My good boy.” He moved his mouth to Jackson’s neck. “So sweet.”

Jackson tilted his head back, moaning softly and sliding his hand over Stiles’ lower back. He whined quietly.

“Still want me to keep you?” Stiles whispered. “Because that means I’d have to stay with you and I’m definitely okay with that.” 

Jackson nodded dazedly. “Yeah.” He blurted breathily. “Want that.”

Stiles brought a hand up to Jackson’s chin, turning the other boy’s head toward him for a kiss. 

Jackson groaned softly and surged against Stiles, kissing him back hungrily.

Stiles felt, for the first time, like staying in Beacon Hills might be his only option. “I want to fuck you.” He murmured. “I want to be your boyfriend. But Allison’s boyfriend, too. Can I do that?” 

Allison laughed at them. “I don’t have a problem with that.” She purred.

Stiles grinned. “Good.” He nodded. “So this trip will be the last time I do this.” 

“Oh, good.” Allison laughed and curled up against him, nuzzling his cheek.

Derek looked amused from his spot in the driver’s seat. “Whatever you plan on doing, though, kindly avoid doing it in the car, please.”

“Well, until we get where we’re going.” Stiles mused. “I thought the point was to fuck in the van? We’re not getting a hotel room, right? I can’t afford that shit, Derek.” 

Derek glanced over his shoulder at Stiles. “You can do whatever you want when the van is parked. Not while I’m driving it, though. I mean, kindly avoid doing it in the car right now.”

“Okay.” Stiles laughed. “No problem.” 

Jackson stretched out against Stiles and buried his face in Allison’s stomach. “I don’t have a problem, either.”


	13. June 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott snorted, glaring at Stiles. “It’s because your dad’s a good man and wants to believe that we’re going to be a happy fucking family.”
> 
> “That’ll never happen.” Stiles said bluntly. “You’re a self-righteous cocksucker. Without the actual cocksucking.”

Stiles reflected back on the last few years as he straightened his tie and put his graduation gown on. He had joined the lacrosse team to spend more time with Jackson, even though he didn’t like it very much. He had earned a lot of money placing bets for or against his own team, depending on who they were playing against. The money had gone toward paying back his dad, Derek and Lydia. He put the rest in the bank. By the time he was ready to start his senior year, he had moved into his dad’s house and had a laptop that he had bought himself. He spent his summers doing the kind of work that his dad would appreciate, like cleaning pools and mowing lawns. He still didn’t get along with Scott very well, or at all - but he had Jackson, Allison, Lydia, Erica, and Derek. He probably could’ve included Isaac in that, but they never did get along. It hadn’t surprised him at all when Isaac and Scott became friends.   
He had a life plan, now. Not just to survive, but in another month, he was going to start police training and follow in his dad’s footsteps. It turned out that he was good at recognizing criminals; after all, he was one. He just didn’t have the record to prove it. He turned toward his bedroom door and called out, “Hey, McCall! You ready to go yet?” 

Scott peered out of his bedroom door and grimaced at Stiles, before giving him a sharp nod. He disappeared again, and then reappeared moments later, fully dressed in his graduation gown, a white button up with black slacks underneath and his cap in his hands. “Let’s go.” He murmured, nodding toward the stairs. “They’re going to start yelling up the stairs in a minute that we’re going to be late.”

Stiles picked up his own cap and smiled, going downstairs and out to the old blue Jeep. It was the best thing he could afford, if anyone asked. The reality was, he had won it in a poker game against one of the old men in town that John was constantly arresting for growing pot in his shed. He took pride in it, anyway. But he was hoping to trade up one day. 

Scott headed for the Sheriff’s cruiser, freezing in place when John cleared his throat. “Yeah, John?” He asked, turning to look at the older man.

John was staring back at him with a frown and a raised eyebrow. His arms were folded over his chest. “Scott… why don’t you ride in the Jeep with Stiles?” He suggested.

“Uh. Because… I want to ride with you guys?” Scott replied warily.

John huffed. “Nonsense. Ride with Stiles. You two never spend time together. It might be one of your last chances to do so before you go off to college.”

Stiles turned toward his dad, a smile plastered to his face as he spoke through his teeth, low enough that the older man couldn’t hear. “Fuck me.” He cleared his throat. “Dad, it’s fine. This is like, our last memory of high school. No need to force Scotty to do something he doesn’t want to do.” 

John looked at Stiles, worried. “Are you sure? Stiles, I know you two don’t get along, I just… Melissa and I just wish you did.” He exhaled. “Nevermind, you’re right. It’s stupid to try and make you both do something you don’t want to do.” He nodded toward the cruiser. “Scott, go ahead, climb in.”

Stiles stared at his dad. “No, it’s... Scott, get in the damned Jeep, all right?” 

Scott sighed, looking back at John and the stupid, hopeful expression on his mother’s boyfriend’s face, before looking back at Stiles. “Yeah, alright.” He muttered, and shuffled toward the Jeep, glancing back at John over his shoulder and trying to pretend that it didn’t give him the warm fuzzies to see John beaming at them both.

Stiles got into the driver’s side of the Jeep and glanced over at Scott when the doors were shut. “It’s not that bad.” He muttered. “Five minutes and we’ll be at the school, and then you can get a ride home from whoever you want. I don’t know why he wants us to be best friends. It hasn’t happened yet, it’s sure as fuck not going to.” 

Scott snorted, glaring at Stiles. “It’s because your dad’s a good man and wants to believe that we’re going to be a happy fucking family.”

“That’ll never happen.” Stiles said bluntly. “You’re a self-righteous cocksucker. Without the actual cocksucking.” He pulled out of the driveway and started driving toward the school. “Put your seatbelt on.” 

Scott scoffed, putting his seatbelt on and folding his arms over his chest to glare out the window. 

Stiles rolled his eyes, but he sighed, trying to make an actual effort for his dad’s sake. “What are you doing after this?” 

Scott glanced over at Stiles, looking surprised and a little suspicious. “Uh. Nothing, really. Hang out with Isaac, I guess.”

“Okay.” Stiles muttered. “Nevermind, then. Uh, have a nice life, I guess? I’m leaving tomorrow, first thing. I’ve got training starting next month at the academy, but I wanna get out there early, get an apartment, get a part-time job or something. Not that you care. Just saying.” 

Scott nodded slowly, glancing at Stiles. “Okay. Well. Good luck, I guess.” He said quietly, direction his gaze back out the window.

“Yep.” Stiles popped the ‘p,’ grimacing when he got to the end of a long line of cars, making their way into the lot. “Shit. Wanna play twenty questions? Or Russian roulette?” He snorted. 

Scott stared out of the windshield, grimacing, and then looked at Stiles before sighing. “Uh. Twenty questions, we can do. I guess.”

“Okay.” Stiles murmured. “Have you ever had sex?” 

Scott didn’t answer right away, staring straight ahead as his cheeks started to turn red. “Once.” He admitted softly. “What was the last lie you told?”

“I said my Jeep was something I bought myself. I won it in a poker game.” Stiles admitted. “Who did you have sex with?” 

“Harley.” Scott replied, looking a little mutinous about the reply. “Do you actually care about being a cop, or are you just doing it for your dad?”

“I care.” Stiles glared at Scott. “I don’t do a fucking thing I don’t wanna do. Case in point, I haven’t gone anywhere near your ass.” He inched the Jeep forward when he had an opportunity to do so. “Have you ever stolen anything?” 

“No,” Scott muttered, looking cowed. “I'm just as much of a goody-two-shoes as you've probably always assumed I was.” He scratched at his head for a moment and then faltered before he asked, “Do you seriously hate me because I tried to get you to adopt a cat?” His voice was small, trying to sound unaffected and bored. 

“No, I hate you because you hate me for not adopting a cat when I couldn’t afford it. For the record, though? Cora adopted it and I’ve been taking care of it ever since. Over at Derek’s. I didn’t tell you because it’s none of your goddamn business.” Stiles said quickly. “And it shouldn’t have an impact on how the fuck you see me. Now I don’t give a shit, I’m out of here in like, twelve hours.” He bit down on his lower lip. “What’s your biggest regret about high school?” 

Scott leaned against the window of the Jeep and sighed. “Being too much of a big-headed, stubborn, goody-two-shoes,” he muttered. “Probably lost the chance to have a lot more friends with the way I acted.” He didn't lift his head to look at Stiles, but his shoulders slumped a little. “Same question back.”

“Not coming out here sooner.” Stiles admitted, his voice soft. “If I had known who my dad was, I would have been here after my mom died. I was a little kid.” He got choked up, needing a minute before he could continue. “And instead of being with my actual father, I went from foster home to foster home. I got abused. Neglected, and uh... the last guy...” He glanced at Scott. “The last house I was at, the foster dad was selling me. Like, I was a hooker. And his son decided not to take no for an answer. I don’t even remember doing it, but I looked into where they were, about a year ago. And just before I left, like right as I left? They died in a house fire. They’d been chained to their beds while they were sleeping. I did that. I know I did. It wouldn’t make sense for it to have been anyone else but me. I’m pretty sure my dad already knows, I’m just not going to bring it up. I don’t want to have to explain why I did it. And I guess I’m... I’m telling you because let’s be serious, nobody’s going to believe you.” He took a deep breath. “Give me a minute, I’ll think of another question.” 

Scott stared at Stiles, biting his lower lip. “I knew who you were.” He blurted. “I knew you were John’s son the second you showed up at the clinic. You don’t look exactly like him, but you do. You get the same faces when you’re thinking, sometimes. I, uh. I think I was jealous.” He admitted. “John was - is - every bit the dad I wish I was raised by, but then there was you, and you were biologically his, and you were the kid that he had with the love of his life and I wanted to hate you just based on that.” He exhaled. “But I knew it wasn’t fair of me, you didn’t do anything to me, and… I figured if I set you off… I’d be justified. But I thought you didn’t want to adopt the kitten because you didn’t want the responsibility, not because you didn’t have the cash.”

“Even though I said I couldn’t afford it?” Stiles smirked. “Fifth question. What do you think your life will be like in a year?” 

Scott hesitated, and then shook his head. “I don’t know. Ideally, I’d be well into my degree and liking my classes… Maybe dating someone.” He shook his head. “I’m not holding my breath.” Looking up at Stiles, he said, “And I didn’t think you were serious.”

“I’m pretty much always serious. I’m sarcastic as hell, you just have to learn.” Stiles muttered. “Same question for me?” 

Scott nodded. “Same question.”

“A year from now, I’ll be a cop.” Stiles mused, thinking. “No girlfriend or boyfriend, since both of mine are going to college away from here.” 

“But not that far away, are they?” Scott asked, frowning.

“Humboldt.” Stiles murmured. “So no, not too far. But four years for them versus six months for me, and I know I’ll see them on holidays. It’s just that... they’ll have each other and I won’t be there. I’m not stupid enough to think that they’ll be in love with me by the time they’ve graduated. Or even that they’re in love with me now. Whatever. I’m trying to be realistic. Optimism is for people who don’t get raped.”

“Maybe.” Scott murmured noncommittally, leaning back against his seat. “I don’t know what they’re like around you, but you’ve been together for years, so… I mean, obviously, they’re kind of devoted to you.”

“That kind of thing changes faster than you’d think.” Stiles groaned at how slowly they were progressing toward the parking lot. “I’m starting to think we should just park a block or two away from here and run back.” 

Scott snorted. “We’d sure as hell get there faster if we did.” He commented, shaking his head at the line of traffic. “Jeez.” He muttered.

Stiles grinned and pulled out, into the oncoming lane. It was nearly empty, until they got near the parking lot entrance. He pulled back into the proper lane and drove to the middle school parking lot, which was empty. “Come on.” He got out, grabbing his mortarboard and waiting for Scott to walk back with him. As soon as he turned toward the other guy, more cars pulled into the lot. “Copycat bastards.” 

Scott climbed out, grabbing his hat as well, and followed after Stiles, rolling his eyes at the other students. “Figures.” He scoffed. “Well. We’ll be the first ones out of the lot, thanks to where you parked, at least.”

Stiles grinned and nodded. “If we get back here before the rest of them, yeah.” He agreed. “We’ve got fifteen more questions, each. If we don’t get through them before this starts, you can expect me to ask you random shit whenever I feel like it, until mine are all used up.” 

“Fair enough.” Scott nodded. “We’ve got time for it. We don’t have to actually line up until five minutes before they start playing the music intro anyway.”

Stiles smiled. “Okay, question six. If you could have sex with anybody at our school, who would it be? And you can’t say Harley because you’ve already had sex with her.”

Scott fidgeted, looking awkward. “Anyone?” He didn't say anything for a long moment, and then exhaled. “Heather, I guess.” He didn't sound entirely enthusiastic. 

“That sounds like it would be the worst pity fuck in history.” Stiles snorted, mocking Scott. “‘Heather, I guess.’ I’m sure Heather would be so pleased to know you’d rather chew your own dick off than fuck her. Everybody has at least one person they want in bed. If you don’t want Heather, don’t fucking say Heather.” He smiled. “Isaac, maybe? I mean, mea culpa for using school as a qualifier. I should have said this town, instead.”

Scott snorted, shaking his head. “Nah. Isaac’s like a little brother. If a little brother was older than me, I mean.” He sighed. “There’s really no one in this town I can think of. I mean… Well, other than the Hales, I guess? Cora is gorgeous, but she’s terrifying and I’d rather be celibate than try to approach her and possible get my dick ripped off.”

Stiles laughed. “Anybody at our school, I’d pick Danny. I mean, if I couldn’t pick Jackson or Ally.” 

Scott squinted at him. “Why wouldn’t you be able to pick them?” He huffed a laugh. “I’m pretty sure there’s no universe where they would ever let you not pick them.”

“Hey, you’re not coming up with questions, and I’m just trying to answer my own, at this point.” Stiles shrugged. “Saying Jackson and Allison is obvious. I don’t like obvious.” 

“Fair enough.” Scott grimaced. “I’m not very good at the reciprocation thing.” He rubbed at his forehead. “Okay, um… If there was anything else you wanted to be, other than a cop, what would it be?”

“Shit. I don’t know. I never thought about it. Alive, I guess. That was about it.” Stiles admitted. “Okay, other than being a vet, what would you want to be?” He reminded himself that it was their seventh question. He wanted to make sure to keep track. 

Scott looked thoughtful, furrowing his brows. “I think… A firefighter, maybe.” He said, and then nodded. “Yeah. A firefighter.” He looked back at Stiles. “Okay. A simple one, I guess. What’s your favorite food?”

“Apple cake.” Stiles murmured. “My mom used to make it. What’s yours?” 

Scott grinned faintly. “There’s a recipe my mom made up a while ago, where she combined the ingredients to a tres leches cake, churros, and flan. It comes out freaking amazing. She calls it Tres Piezas.”

“Ninth one.” Stiles murmured. “What was your favorite birthday?” 

Scott eyed him thoughtfully, and then said, “My eighth. It was the last one I had where my dad still gave a shit about us.”

“My sixteenth.” Stiles countered. “It was the first time I felt like everything might be okay.” 

Scott’s face softened, and he stared back at Stiles, exhaling. “Ten.” He said softly. “Do you think we could forget the other bullshit? It’s been years. Way too much time to hold a grudge. I’m sorry for everything I did. I shouldn’t have pushed you into anything, especially after you told me no.” He paused, grimaced, and added, “Several times.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, I would like that, actually.” He murmured. “For us to at least get along, I mean. I’m not expecting you to be my best friend.” 

Scott smiled. “I have a feeling Isaac would cry if I tried to replace him with you, anyway. But, yeah. I’d like that. Better late than never, right?”

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, this is about as late as it gets.” 

Scott grinned. “We should get inside.” He suggested, standing up and straightening. He gestured toward the school and raised his eyebrows at Stiles. “Let’s go.”

Stiles nodded again and turned toward Scott as they approached the building. “I’m counting that last one as the eleventh question. We’ve got nine more. If I don’t see you before I go... we’ll just text back and forth until we hit twenty.” 

Scott smiled. “Sounds good to me.” He said, nodding. He clapped Stiles on the shoulder, nudging him lightly.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Either the Jeep was bugged, Scott was a lot more sinister than he ever let on, or Scott had told someone exactly what Stiles had told him the day before. He ruled out the second option. His not-quite-a-brother was too pure to even consider this sort of thing.

Early the next morning, Stiles smiled fondly as he packed the last of his things into his suitcase. Everything else had been prepared before graduation. Now, he only needed to add his diploma and his mortarboard. Once those were in his lacrosse duffel bag, he carried it out to the Jeep and tossed it into the back. He didn’t want to wake anyone else, so he wrote them a goodbye note and promised he would call as soon as he got to Chico. He walked back outside and was about to get into his Jeep when he saw a folded up sheet of paper stuck underneath one of the windshield wipers. Confused, he tugged it free and unfolded it to read it. 

_‘You could go to Chico a month in advance, find an apartment and get a job to cover your expenses for the next seven months. But we’ve kept an eye on you. We know that you still have trouble sleeping, that you have done things in the past that you don’t want anyone to know about. We know that you told your new friend Scott about your foster dad and brother in New Jersey.  
We know what you really want. Or at least, we think we do. _

_Drive north, instead of south. Go to Klamath National Forest. Train for the kind of job you would rather be doing. If we’re wrong, you’ll never hear from us again._

_Destroy this as soon as you finish reading it.’_

Stiles looked around warily. He tore the paper into strips, then pieces, as he tried to think of what to do. Either the Jeep was bugged, Scott was a lot more sinister than he ever let on, or Scott had told someone exactly what Stiles had told him the day before. He ruled out the second option. His not-quite-a-brother was too pure to even consider this sort of thing. There was a fourth option, he knew. Someone was fucking with him and they would owe him a lot of gas money for this. But he believed that the simplest answer was usually the right one. He was being watched, had been watched for years, and whatever was waiting for him at Klamath National Forest was dangerous. More dangerous than being a small town cop. He ran a hand over his face, then threw some of the scraps of paper into an old McDonald’s bag on the floor of his Jeep. He tossed the rest of the scraps into the neighbor’s trash can. Before the last of them left his hand, he knew he was going north instead of south. But he had learned to be polite, so he called the police training academy in Chico to leave a message. 

“Hello?” A woman answered.

Stiles blinked. “Uh, hi. I didn’t expect an answer, it’s like... four o’clock in the morning. Sorry. I was just going to leave a voicemail. I’m Mieczyslaw Stilinski.” He grimaced as he said it. He loved his mother and the memories he had of her, but there was a reason he went by Stiles. 

“Oh, I know. I was expecting your call.” The woman replied, sounding amused. “I was instructed to tell you that if you showed up, you were to immediately head north, as we have a different sort of training for you.” 

“Fucking Morton’s Fork.” Stiles muttered. 

“Beg your pardon?” 

“Nothing.” Stiles said quickly. “How do I know this isn’t a trick?” 

“You don’t.” The woman chuckled. “Have a nice day, sir.” She hung up.

Stiles stared at his phone in disbelief. He got into the Jeep and drove away, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel when he got to the road out of town. If he went left, he would go north. If he went right, he would go south, and possibly have to go north, anyway. Mind made up, he turned left. 

Three hours passed before he parked outside of a small building, going in to use the bathroom and grab some maps. He wasn’t sure what to say or who to say anything to, but the way that the park ranger kept eyeing him told him everything he needed to know. He approached the man, nodding to him. “Hey. I’m here for training.” He paused, feeling a little idiotic until the man handed him a medium-sized manila envelope, bulging with whatever was inside. 

“I hope you enjoy your stay, sir.” The ranger nodded, tugging at his tie nervously. 

Stiles carried everything back out to the parking lot, setting the envelope on the hood of his Jeep and opening it carefully. Inside, he found a map of the park trails and terrain, a smaller envelope with a motel room key, and a sealed black package with a strip of white masking tape over it, with the words ‘open me in the hotel room’ written in black Sharpie. The motel was a little further up the road, and he drove there and let himself into the room indicated on the outside of the key envelope. He laid down on the bed for a little while, lost in thought. He felt like he should do the responsible thing and call his dad, but he had a feeling that the Jeep was still bugged and he wouldn’t have been surprised if his phone was. He doubted that these people, whoever they were, wanted him to tell the world what he was doing. When he sat up again, he opened the sealed envelope.  
__  
‘1. Leave the Jeep keys in the top dresser drawer.  
2\. Take the backpack out of the bottom dresser drawer.  
3\. Fill the backpack with anything you deem necessary. Leave the rest, including your cell phone, behind. You’ve done this before. We know you can handle it.  
4\. Leave the rest of your belongings in the suitcase.  
5\. Leave the suitcase on the bed.  
6\. Walk through the woods to get to Patrick Creek.  
7\. Check into the Patrick Creek Lodge under the name ‘Terry McGinnis.’ An ID, cell phone and credit card have been provided for you.  
8\. Further instructions will be coming.’ 

Stiles barely made it into the bathroom before he threw up. He stripped out of his clothes and left them in a pile on the bathroom floor, getting into the shower and turning the cold water on to give himself a moment to calm down and think. Nearly all of this was just an echo of his trip from New Jersey to Los Angeles, right down to him insisting that Derek call him Batman - and that had been Derek’s idea. Stiles had just gone with it. He tried to piece together everything that he knew. One, someone didn’t want him to be a cop. That same someone, or group of someones, really had been monitoring him since his fifteenth birthday, if not earlier. Whoever they were, they hadn’t seen fit to bail a terrified teenager out of trouble at any point on his journey. He wasn’t so sure he could, or should, trust what was going on. The smart thing would be to bail right now, go to Chico and try to life a decent life. He had made a mistake in driving north instead of south.  
Still, he dried off and threw his dirty clothes in the trash, pulling on some clean ones and following the steps outlined in the note. If he didn’t like being tracked, if he wanted it to stop? The only way would be to find out who was doing it and make them stop. Going to Chico now would be like signing his life away to constant surveillance. He had a feeling that anyone responsible for what was happening now wouldn’t be willing to let him die. If he got into a life-threatening situation, they would intervene. The thought of that made him nod to himself and keep moving around the room. Once the backpack was packed, the Jeep’s keys were in the top dresser drawer, and the suitcase was zipped shut on the bed, Stiles glanced down at his phone. He smiled to himself. They hadn’t said not to contact anyone he knew. He had a feeling it was an unwritten rule, but he loved loopholes. He sent a mass text to his lovers, current and former. ‘Opted for the road less traveled. I hope you can all forgive me. I’ll see you again someday.’ He bit his lip as he sent a second text to John, Melissa and Scott, who he added at the last minute. ‘I’m not sure what’s going on, but someone’s got me playing Jason Bourne. I’ll find a way to get word to you as I move. I’m not a fan of being toyed with, but I don’t know what happens if I don’t play.’ He stared down at the sent message, then added a second one. ‘Better not to risk it. Don’t call this number, I’ve been instructed to ditch the phone.’ He turned the phone off and left it on top of the suitcase, then pulled the backpack straps over his shoulders. He had two spare outfits, a hooded jacket, the supplies that proved he was ‘Terry McGinnis,’ and his spare cash. He bought a bottle of water from a vending machine near his room, then a pack of Reese’s from the one beside it. He stashed the candy in the backpack, took a small drink of water, and left the motel behind. According to the map, he had to cross about twenty-three miles of rivers and rough terrain. The worst of it was the river near the motel. He hadn’t thought about it before he left, but his room key had been left behind in the room and he didn’t care for the idea of changing in front of everyone. Not that he even had swim trunks, anyway. He took off his shoes, then his socks, and put them into the backpack. He held the backpack over his head as he waded across the river, throwing it to the other bank when the water was too deep to keep everything dry. He emerged from the water, drenched and more than a little pissed off. He wasn’t even sure who was at fault now, himself or the people responsible for this fucked up prank. That’s what he had decided it was, anyway. Some kind of terrible joke that Isaac and Scott had put together. He knew it wasn’t the truth, but the anger from it kept him going, running across roads and crossing the river a second time. He wrung water out of his shirt and pulled it back on, drying his hands and arms on one of the spare shirts in the backpack.  
Up ahead, and he could tell by the sound of car tires on pavement, there was a highway that he had to get across. The nearest place on the map was called Happy Camp, and he decided not to linger there too long. It sounded like a cult. He would have bypassed it altogether, but he had decided to stop off and either buy or steal a towel to put in the backpack, along with something more substantial than Reese’s Cups. The map legend indicated that there was a grocery store close by. He fell in with the crowd of tourists wandering around, forcing a smile when more than one of them decided to comment on his soaking wet clothing. As he walked into the grocery store, he wondered what they would do if he started stripping his clothes off, instead. 

“Mister, can you tie my shoe?” A little boy asked, tugging Stiles’ shirt. 

Stiles looked down, one eyebrow raised. “Why can’t your parents do that?” 

The boy shrugged and lifted his foot toward Stiles. 

Stiles grimaced and knelt down, propping the little boy’s foot up on his knee. He tied the kid’s shoe. “There. Okay?” He was startled when he received a hug for his efforts, and then the little boy ran away. He stayed still for a moment, then got to his feet and took advantage of the crowd, walking outside with the food he had settled on. 

“Excuse me, sir? My son says you tied his shoe for him?” A woman smiled nervously. “Would you - do you need anything? I didn’t know where he was, and I appreciate that you helped him.” 

Stiles froze. He knew she was trying to be polite, but the rage from the past few hours had reached a boiling point, and he erupted. “Maybe you should keep an eye on your kid, you know? It’s not the rest of the world’s job to watch him. People like you make me sick!” He heard conversation around him fall silent, and his jaw clenched as he walked away. He wanted to run, but didn’t risk it until he was away from the store and had crossed all of the streets that made up the town. He ran northwest for ten miles, then stopped to pee, grateful for privacy. He sat down with his back against a tree and drank half of his bottle of water, following that up with the Reese’s. He had three granola bars from the store, but he didn’t feel like eating them yet. Thinking about them made him feel like his stomach was full of rocks, anyway. He felt terrible for yelling at that woman. It wasn’t her fault that her son had wandered off from her. “Yeah, I’ll just get right on that and write her an apology letter.” He muttered to himself as he stood up. His soaked clothes were mostly dry now, but his legs felt like they had been rubbed raw from the wet fabric scraping against his skin as he ran. He had another ten or eleven miles, and walking it would take another two and a half to three hours. It was a little past noon, judging by the sun’s position. He set the backpack down and crouched to get his sunscreen out of it, reapplying it before he started walking again. His lips were chapped, his feet were sore and most definitely blistered, and he was entertaining the thought of attacking his stalkers with a baseball bat when he finally got to Patrick Creek Lodge and checked in. Something occurred to him when he got into the room, and he grabbed the cell phone from the backpack and started typing, even though he had no one to send it to. ‘I hope you bastards have a keylogger installed on this. Guess what? Fuck you. Save your James Bond shit for after I’ve had some sleep.’ He tossed the phone onto the nearest chair and threw his dirty clothes into the bathroom, curling up on the bed for a nap.


	15. December 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The first time I saw you, I thought you came straight out of a Disney cartoon and there was no way anyone would like me if they’d so much as met you.” Stiles admitted. “So yeah. If you’d listened to me, maybe it’d be you and me instead of me and Jax and Ally. Maybe it’s not too late.” He looked up at Scott. “Can you forgive me for things I’ve done and what I told you I’m gonna do?”
> 
> Scott’s eyes were soft, and he was hesitant, but he reached out to touch his hand. “There was never anything for me to forgive you for.” He said softly.

Stiles sent a text when he got to Redding and retrieved his own cell phone from an airport locker there. ‘I’ll be home in about an hour or two. I’ll explain everything. I’m sorry for the inconvenience this probably caused. I can’t talk about it over the phone.’ He shoved his phone in his pocket and got his rental car, driving himself back to Beacon Hills. He kept Christmas songs playing on the radio as background noise, but he was all too glad to turn them off when he parked in front of his dad’s house and got out of the car. 

John sat back in his desk chair and exhaled heavily, then put his head in his hands and closed his eyes when he heard the car pull up in the driveway. Six months with no word from Stiles had affected him more than fifteen years with no word from or about Claudia. He honestly wasn't sure whether to be angry that his son had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth with only a few text messages from a no-longer active phone to identify where he possibly was, or if he should be cautiously relieved that Stiles had resurfaced and that he was alright. They'd made enormous steps during their few years together, to the point where John had felt comfortable enough to hug the younger man freely. Taking a deep breath, he stood up and made his way toward the front door with a small smile. Of course he'd be relieved. There really wasn't another option. “Stiles!” He called, smiling. 

Stiles grinned and hugged his dad. “Hey!” He pulled back to look at him. “I’m sorry. I seriously had no other options, I had to do this. I know that sounds shitty right now. I swear I’ll tell you everything.” 

John hugged him back tightly. “I know you will.” He chuckled. “I wouldn't let you go and see anyone else until you did.” He pulled back and placed a gentle hand on the back of Stiles’ neck. “Come on inside. Are you hungry? Melissa made this shredded pork taco thing, I don't know what the damn difference is from it and a sandwich, really, but she didn't put barbecue sauce on it.” He led the way back inside the house. 

Stiles laughed as he followed his dad. “I’m not that hungry. I’m more tired than anything else.” He murmured. “I’ll just...” He cleared his throat. “I work for the CIA. Unofficially. I do the kind of work that they insist they don’t do. They decided that they wanted to recruit me after I graduated, but they were going to wait. I wrecked that for them when I decided to leave the day after the ceremony. That’s where I’ve been. Training.” 

John blinked and slowly turned to stare at Stiles, his eyes wide. “Jesus. The - the CIA?” He blurted, and then started again. “The CIA wanted to recruit you to work for them?” His voice sounded awed. “That's incredible. My son works for the CIA.” He laughed. 

Stiles smiled. “I swear it’s not that impressive. They pretty much gave me no choice. They said I could come train for them or go train to be a cop. I called the academy to tell them I wasn’t going to make it, and the woman that answered told me that she had been instructed to turn me away when I showed up. I spent about a week jumping through hoops to get everywhere they wanted me to go, just so they could fuck with me and make me exhausted before they started my actual training.” He wanted to talk about what those first days were like, but he knew he didn’t have to (read: wasn’t allowed to) divulge everything. “I’m here until the day after my birthday, and then I have to leave again.” 

John looked disappointed, but nodded. “I understand. I had to jump through hoops for this job, too. Not CIA level hoops,” he shrugged, “But hoops all the same.” He smiled. “And believe me, this is something to be excited about - at least for me. Scott’s shithead of a biological dad works for the FBI. It was part of the reason he left Scott and Melissa, and he lords it over the entire department whenever he happens to come back to town which, thankfully, is not that often.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about him.” Stiles nodded back. “If it makes a difference though, you shouldn’t have to deal with him much longer.” 

John raised his eyebrows, but wisely didn't question his son’s words. He simply nodded. “Sit down, kid. Or go take a nap. I'm sure it'll be less than an hour and word will get around that you're back, and then I won't have you to myself until the next time you come home.” He laughed. 

Stiles laughed and yawned, hugging his dad again and going up to his room to lay down. 

Precisely forty-five minutes later, Allison crawled through the bedroom window, whispering at Jackson. “Shh, shh. He's sleeping, let's not wake him up.”

Jackson followed her through the window and turned to look at Stiles with a small smile. “He looks a little different, doesn't he? Just a little bit.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. 

Allison smiled faintly and nodded. “Just a little.” She climbed onto the bed and curled up behind Stiles, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his back. 

Jackson lay down in front of Stiles, resting his head on Stiles’ chest. “I missed him, damn it.” He said quietly. 

“I missed him, too.” Allison murmured, snuggling against him. 

Stiles’ lips curved into a smile. “Shut the fuck up, both of you. I’m trying to sleep.” 

“Then sleep,” Allison giggled into his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the shoulder blade. “I'm glad you're back.” She added. 

“Me too. Missed you.” Stiles murmured. He opened his eyes and kissed Jackson, then moved to kiss Allison a moment later. “What have you two been doing?” 

Jackson curled against him contentedly. “School. Each other. The usual.” He kissed Stiles’ throat. 

Allison squirmed until she could prop her head on Stiles’ shoulder, her arms stretching out to wind around both Stiles and Jackson. “Humboldt’s okay. Not anything to write home about.”

“I’m sorry I went off the grid for you guys.” Stiles murmured, closing his eyes again. “Seems like it’s going to happen a lot, though. Whether I like it or not. I don’t. For the record.” 

Allison stroked his arm gently. “It's okay, baby.” She murmured. 

“We’ll just have to monopolize all of your time while you're here.” Jackson added, resting his head against Stiles’ chest quietly. “Are there at least some things you like about it?” He asked after a minute. 

“I like that I get to see the world, yeah.” Stiles murmured. “And the job has some other nice perks, too.” He didn’t want to explain how it had felt to watch a video from the day he turned fifteen, as he set his foster dad’s house on fire and fled; mostly because he wasn’t ashamed of it, he was proud of himself, even if he didn’t remember it happening. 

Allison smiled and kissed his cheek softly. “Well, at least there’s that.” She murmured. “Maybe one day we'll be able to go with you.”

Jackson raised his head a little. “I'd be okay with that.”

“Probably not.” Stiles said bluntly, then frowned at himself. “Sorry. I’m... I’ll tell you. I’m not a cop. I’m doing work that could get me killed. Could get you guys killed. I’m not risking either of you.” 

Jackson frowned. “It's that dangerous?” He rubbed Stiles’ arm soothingly. “We don't want you risking yourself, either. Is there anyway out of this for you?”

“Probably. But I wouldn’t take it.” Stiles admitted, looking up at Jackson. “I’ve done a lot of shit that... that would get me incarcerated if people knew about it. My dad would never look at me the same. It’s something I didn’t even... I’ve murdered a couple of people.” He said quietly. “It happened before I met either of you, I just didn’t want to talk about it once I realized I’d done it. I don’t remember it, but I’ve seen video. I know it was me. And this stuff is just more of the same, except I’m conscious of it now.” 

Allison looked worried, running her fingers over Stiles’ hair. “Did they deserve it?” She asked carefully, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

Stiles nodded. “Yeah.” He looked up at her, his expression serious. “Yeah, they more than deserved it.” 

Jackson tilted his head. “Well. We're sure as hell not going to judge you.” He said. “If they deserved it, then good riddance.”

“I don’t want to talk.” Stiles murmured. “I’d like to sleep, but I haven’t seen either of you since June, so I can sleep later. Take off your pants.” 

Jackson snorted, but complied. “So romantic.” He teased, easing his pants off of his hips. 

Allison giggled quietly, keeping her arms wrapped around him. 

Stiles twisted around, kissing Allison again and sitting up to take his shirt off. He wriggled out of his jeans and laid back on the bed. 

Allison leaned over him, tugging her shirt off and settling her hands on his chest as she leaned down to kiss him slowly. Her fingers traced his chest steadily, stroking up and down teasingly. 

Jackson lowered his head and followed Allison’s path with his lips, wiggling his way between Stiles’ thighs and sucking lightly at his skin. 

Stiles ran his fingers through Jackson’s hair as he kissed Allison, feeling amazed at how whole he felt with them being close. He had honestly thought that time away would just prove to him that he didn’t need anyone. He had been wrong. 

Allison whimpered softly against him, clutching at his arms and sighing quietly. “We missed you.” She said again. “We missed you so much, Stiles, you have no idea.”

Jackson nodded, dotting kisses against Stiles’ chest and over his moles. “Well, you might have an idea.” He said quietly, nuzzling him. 

Stiles smiled. “Yeah, I have an idea.” He agreed. “You’ve got me for a few weeks. Let’s just make the most of them.” 

Allison crooned and snuggled against him. “Not going to hear an argument out of me.” She told him firmly, clasping her hand over his and threading their fingers together. She scooted back enough for Jackson to invade their space.

Jackson wriggled up the bed and settled above Stiles, kissing the other man deeply as he stroked Allison’s back. 

Stiles reached into the bedside table for the lube he had started keeping there in high school. He poured a little into his hand, then rubbed his hands together to warm the liquid before he pressed a finger inside Jackson, his breath hitching in his throat as he kissed his boyfriend. 

Jackson let out a little whine, his eyes rolling skyward as he arched his hips toward Stiles and kissed him back hungrily.

Stiles slid another finger inside, pulling back from kissing Jackson so that he could turn his head and talk to Allison. “Want my mouth?” 

Allison nodded eagerly, wriggling toward him and settling on her back, reaching for him.

“No, not...” Stiles shook his head. “Come here.” He gestured toward his mouth, then put his hands on Jackson’s hips and thrust up and into him. 

Realization dawned, and Allison turned, crawling up Stiles’ body and straddling his head before she lowered herself to his mouth and exhaled, her eyes rolling up.

Jackson clutched at Stiles’ legs, leaning backward and thrusting eagerly.

Stiles pressed his tongue inside Allison’s folds, groaning as his eyes fluttered closed. He had spent the past six months thinking about everything he would do if he ever saw Jackson and Allison again. This was a fantasy that he kept coming back to. 

Allison’s hand reached for Jackson’s shoulder, flailing a little bit before she whined softly, a keening noise escaping her throat as she thrust down against Stiles and slowly rode his mouth. 

Stiles brought his hand up to cup one of Allison’s breasts, even though the angle was awkward. 

Allison’s head fell back, and moaned, clutching Stiles’ hand tightly. “Oh. Please, Stiles - please.” She blurted, her fingers scrambling again his chest.

*****

Stiles walked downstairs a few hours later, more rested and his hair still a little damp from his shower. He saw Scott in the living room and smiled. “Hey.” 

Scott looked up, surprised, and then grinned back. “Hey!” He stood and moved toward Stiles, holding his hand out and clapping his other arm around his not-quite-brother. “Heard you were back! How’ve you been?”

“I’m all right.” Stiles smiled. “How have you been? That’s twelve now, by the way.” 

Scott laughed. “Yeah, I figured you’d count that. I’m doing well, man. Pretty good.” He nodded.

“Heard from your dad lately? That one doesn’t count.” Stiles said quickly, tilting his head a little as he watched Scott’s reaction. 

Scott’s face closed off slightly, and he shook his head. “Nope. And I hope it stays that way. I don’t need to hear anything he might have to say to me.”

Stiles nodded. “Okay.” He murmured, then wrinkled his nose and leaned in to hug Scott. “Good to be back here.”

Scott snorted out a laugh and patted Stiles’ back. “You don’t have to sound so annoyed by it.” He teased.

“I’m still tired from all the sex I’ve been having.” Stiles said bluntly, his expression gleeful as he looked at Scott. 

Scott rolled his eyes up and sighed. “Yeah, thanks for that imagery.” He snorted. “Well, yay? Good that you’re having a good time, I guess?”

“I needed one.” Stiles remarked. “My job is exhausting, man. I feel like this is the first time in the last six months that I can relax, except that’s not even true because I have - other obligations, let’s just say that.” 

Scott looked at him curiously but didn’t try to pry. “Do you want to do something mindless and blow up other unsuspecting players on CoD?” He asked, gesturing to the game system.

Stiles laughed. “Sure, yeah. Let’s go kill people.” He nodded. 

Scott grinned faintly and moved toward the tv and the console to set up the aforementioned game, before tossing a controller to Stiles and sitting down with his own in his hands. “So everything you’re doing for work is already ‘no-questions-asked,’ then?”

“Yeah.” Stiles murmured. “But that’s for me, anyway. I do what I’m told and I... if you want to ask me something, I’ll try my best to answer it.” 

“Nah, it’s cool.” Scott smiled at him. “It’s not my business to know, I’m cool with that. I’m pretty sure if you even tried to tell me anything, your bosses would throw a black bag over my head and toss me into the back of a black SUV.”

“That’s such a stereotype.” Stiles snorted. “Sometimes the SUVs are white.” 

“Yeah, but who’s gonna look at a white SUV and be like, ‘Oh, god, the government has me, I’m going to die’?”

“I think that’s the point.” Stiles mused. He started playing, lost in thought for a few minutes. 

Scott played silently as well, furrowing his brow at the screen intently.

“Do you own a suit? Thirteen.” Stiles murmured. 

“A - shit - what? A suit?” Scott replied distractedly, then glanced over at Stiles. “Thirteen what?”

“Questions. That was my thirteenth.” Stiles smiled. “And now you owe me two.” 

Scott rolled his eyes up, laughing. “Right. I do, yes. Okay, two questions.” He bit his lip thoughtfully, staring at the screen. “Hmm. Okay. What’s the best holiday you can remember having? And is this new job ever something you anticipated, like, ever in your life?”

“Christmas with my mom when I was four, and no. I never thought I’d be doing this. I figured I’d become a cop, at best. At worst... who knows? Probably a hooker.” Stiles said bluntly. 

“Well, at least you'd be doing something enjoyable.” Scott quipped. “What was special about your fourth Christmas?” He asked curiously. 

“You’ve gotten a little bit saucy.” Stiles laughed. “Uh, I don’t know. I think it was just... one of the last times my mom was actually aware of the world around her. The year after that, she wasn’t so much, and then I turned six and... then she wasn’t around.” 

Scott smiled sympathetically. “I'm sorry, man. I shouldn't have asked.”

“It’s okay.” Stiles glanced over at Scott. “I have to murder your dad.” 

Scott blinked at him, eyes going wide. “You've… what? Oh, Christ. What did he do?”

“A lot of shit.” Stiles muttered. “That’s what I can’t tell you, unfortunately. I probably shouldn’t even mention this, but I have a feeling that even though you can’t stand him, you’ll want some answers. I’m just giving them to you in advance.” 

Scott hesitated, but nodded. “Okay…” He said carefully. “You're right, I mean. I can't stand him at all. He's a bastard and whatever you're going to do, he's probably going to deserve. And he's not my dad. He's just my sperm donor. Your dad is more of a father to me than Rafe.”

Stiles nodded. “I figured as much.” 

Scott exhaled slowly. “I actually… really don't know how to feel about this. I’m… Don't tell my mom, at least? I mean, I know you probably weren't planning on it. I don't know how she'd feel about it.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to say anything to you either, but I know you.” Stiles murmured. “Well, sort of.” 

Scott grinned faintly. “Yeah, I wouldn't have left you alone about it at all.” He nodded. 

“Do you ever regret that we didn't get along sooner?” Stiles glanced over at Scott. “Fourteen.” He looked back at the screen. “I’m not asking any more today. That’s the last one.”

Scott stared at the screen for a long time, his fingers mashing buttons distractedly as he thought. “Yeah, I do.” He murmured eventually. “I think… if we got along then, like we get along now… things probably would’ve been better for me. Maybe better for you? But you had it way better than me, anyway.” He cleared his throat. 

Stiles laughed. “How the fuck did I have it better? I grew up being passed around for sex after living with my mom as she lost her mind and died. I didn't even know my dad until I was fifteen.” His character on the screen fired bullets into zombies as he spoke. “I get that you think your life was shit because your dad didn't hug you enough. Whatever. At least your foster brother didn't hold you down and fuck you while your foster dad watched and laughed. At least you didn't have to suck dick to get across the country. But maybe you think that’s better.”

Scott was silent, looking awkward and a little sick to his stomach. “I thought you meant, from the time that we met.” He said softly. “I didn’t… that wasn’t what I meant at all.” He watched impassively as his character was attacked on the screen and made no move to keep him from dying. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t clearer with what I meant.”

“It’s still not...” Stiles sighed. “You weren't bad off. You had a job. You had friends. You still do. Now you’ve got me watching your back, too.” He smiled crookedly. “Like it or not, I’m here.”

Scott smiled back faintly. “Well… I’m glad you do.” He said quietly and nodded. “And I’ve got yours. Probably not as well as you’ve got mine, but still.”

“Well, I could teach you all the shit I know, but then we’re not buddy cop movie material.” Stiles laughed. 

Scott laughed. “Anyway, if you taught me everything you know, you’d have no more secrets. You can’t be mysterious when you don’t have secrets, man, you’ve got nothing to be mysterious for.”

“Oh, is that my whole thing, then?” Stiles paused, realizing he was flirting a little. “What’s yours?”

Scott tilted his head, thinking for a moment. “Sensitivity and caring about animals.” He nodded. “Girls love a guy that listens to them and cares about animals.”

“Yeah, I care about animals.” Stiles smiled. “I can afford one now, but I don’t have time to take care of it. Such is life, I guess.”

Scott smiled a little crookedly. “Maybe I'll pick one out for you and take care of it for you while you're gone.”

“That’d be sweet.” Stiles glanced over at Scott. “But I want to help pick it out.”

Scott nodded. “Of course. It’ll effectively be yours. I’ll just be taking care of it for you.”

“Why are you being so nice?” Stiles teased. “You want my dick?”

Scott huffed, smiling faintly and shaking his head. “Dude, I’m being nice to be nice. I don’t need an ulterior motive.” He murmured.

“I didn't say you needed one.” Stiles smirked. 

Scott snorted a laugh. “Okay.” He replied easily. “You’re kind of ridiculous, you know that?”

“Absolutely.” Stiles grinned. “But everyone likes that about me.”

“Point.” Scott nodded. His lips twitched. “You're a likeable guy. Makes me a little jealous sometimes.”

“You don’t have to be jealous, just fuck like you mean it.” Stiles burst out laughing. 

Scott put his head down on the couch, his shoulders shaking in laughter as well. “Is that your life philosophy?” He teased. 

“Actually, yeah.” Stiles nodded. “In all definitions of the word, too.” He set his controller down. “The time I spent out here made everything else worth it. I like that I have a place I can think of as home.”

Scott smiled softly, glancing down. “Yeah, well… I’m glad you think of this place as home.” He murmured. “It makes your dad happy to have you around, and my mom likes you because you make your dad happy, and I like that my mom likes you, so…”

Stiles grinned. “Yeah.” He murmured, not sure what else to say. 

Scott fell silent for a moment, fidgeting a little before he whispered, “Do you… do you like me?”

“The first time I saw you, I thought you came straight out of a Disney cartoon and there was no way anyone would like me if they’d so much as met you.” Stiles admitted. “So yeah. If you’d listened to me, maybe it’d be you and me instead of me and Jax and Ally. Maybe it’s not too late.” He looked up at Scott. “Can you forgive me for things I’ve done and what I told you I’m gonna do?”

Scott’s eyes were soft, and he was hesitant, but he reached out to touch his hand. “There was never anything for me to forgive you for.” He said softly. “I know what I was like. I never held any of it against you. I won’t hold anything against you now.” He paused and liked his lips, then drew a deep breath, feeling emboldened. “Except maybe me.” He leaned forward.

Stiles blinked, but met Scott’s lips with his own, resting a hand on his shoulder. The only time they had really spoken, without vitriol, had been the day they graduated, six months earlier. Stiles’ last text to Scott had, as far as he knew, gone unanswered. 

Scott held his breath as he kissed Stiles. When Stiles had gone off the radar, he hadn’t realized how it would affect him - they’d only just started to get along, and then suddenly, he’d disappeared. He’d become almost obsessed with the other man, and desolate at the same time, and the way things had gotten tied up inside of him, he’d ended up only leaving his house in order to go to work - otherwise, he was holed up in his room, ruminating on why he’d found himself so suddenly desperate for Stiles to return. The only reasonable response he could come up with was that he’d perhaps had a latent attraction to his almost step-brother, one that had snuck up on him despite stewing inside of him for the last several years, and that was why he’d encouraged himself to kiss Stiles now - because if he liked the other teen, then it stood to reason that he should at least test the waters. He didn’t date. And it was selfish of him to use Stiles like this - he thought he was using him, anyway - but he didn’t want to be alone anymore. Even if Stiles had to leave again, soon, he would rather have a flash moment in the pan with Stiles and be forced to say goodbye to him when the other man went back to work, than to once again do absolutely nothing and stay alone. He pulled back a moment later, his cheeks red, and he looked down, his expression apologetic. “I’m sorry.” He murmured softly. “If I overstepped. I know it - I know that - um. It came out of nowhere a little. I’m sorry.”

Stiles’ lips quirked up and he shook his head slightly, kissing Scott again. “I could probably get you in.” He murmured. “CIA wants experts in everything. Including animal care.” 

Scott tilted his head a little, his expression changing to wonder. “Really?” He said softly. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’d want you with me.” Stiles looked a little uncertain. “Unless you’re okay being here? But we could have a place together in Washington or wherever, and you could still be a vet if you want, and bring in money as a consultant. I mean, that is, if you don’t want to learn how to do what I do?” 

Scott barreled forward to kiss Stiles again, making a happy noise in his throat and sending Stiles onto his back. He nodded frantically. “I want. I so want.”

Stiles laughed softly and put his arms around Scott. “I’m going retroactive on this.” He looked up at his stepbrother. “We’ve been getting along for six months, regardless of the fact that we didn’t really talk during those, so I’m counting graduation day as the day this all started.” He smiled. “Which means we’ve each got six questions and six months to get to know each other a little bit better before our anniversary.” His smile turned playful as his hands slid down to grip Scott’s ass. “When I leave here, I want you to come with me, no matter what.” 

Scott let out a squeak and clutched Stiles tightly, his eyes widening as his hips jerked up against Stiles’. “Is that -” His voice cracked. “Is that, uh, metaphorical, or literal ‘coming’?” He asked helplessly, sliding one arm around Stiles’ neck. He paused, and then said, “One.”

Stiles grinned. “Can it be both?” He lifted his head to kiss Scott’s neck. “Also one.” 

Scott groaned, his head dropping to the side as he nuzzled Stiles’ shoulder. “God, yeah,” he breathed out.

“We’d better get up and go to your room.” Stiles murmured. “Because mine is a little crowded and I don’t think our parents would like seeing us like this when they come home.” 

“I can imagine they’d be pretty upset.” Scott agreed, nodding, and grunted as he rolled to his feet.

Stiles got up and smiled at Scott. He walked up the stairs to the other man’s room, his mind wandering. He didn’t want to think too much about what he was going to be doing soon, to Rafael McCall, but he was still running scenarios in his head, trying to think of contingency plans in case anything went wrong. 

Scott followed after Stiles, unable to keep his eyes from dropping to the other man’s backside. He exhaled slowly, jittering a little in anticipation.

Stiles glanced over his shoulder, then laughed when he realized where Scott’s attention was. “Well, I guess that’s one question I won’t have to ask you.” He remarked, reaching for the hem of his shirt and pulling it off over his head. 

Scott’s eyes shot up to look at Stiles’ face, looking embarrassed. “Sorry.” He murmured unconvincingly, and pressed close to Stiles, reaching out to trace his palm over Stiles’ chest.

Stiles shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t apologize, I’m glad I have your attention.” He murmured. “Take off your clothes.” 

Scott nodded, taking his shirt off and tossing it to the floor. “Good thing I’m not really sorry, then,” he laughed quietly.

Stiles laughed, unfastening his jeans and pushing them off of his hips, along with his underwear. “Yeah, I kind of figured.” 

Scott reached out and grasped Stiles’ hip, dragging him close. “Good thing,” he murmured, sucking on the skin between his neck and shoulder.

Stiles groaned, tilting his head to the side and reaching for the waistband of Scott’s pants. “I think you should fuck me.” 

“You want me to get to - You really want me doing that?” Scott asked, looking mind-blown. 

“You’ve never done it before, have you?” Stiles asked. “Or did you and Isaac get around to that?” 

Scott paused for a long moment and then shook his head, sighing. “Not for lack of trying on his part, but no, we never did.” He murmured. 

“So I’d be your first, then?” Stiles bit his lip, smiling. “I like that. Come here.”

Scott drifted toward Stiles, slipping his arms around the other man’s waist, smiling back. “I think I do, too.” He hummed, and leaned in to kiss Stiles, teeth nipping at the other man’s lower lip.

Stiles groaned and moved back toward Scott’s bed, staring up at him. “I want to feel you come.” He said bluntly. 

Scott followed him steadily, his pupils blown wide from arousal as he approached his lover. “You will,” he promised, nodding. “Believe me, you will.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think he can more than handle it.” Derek murmured, not disagreeing with Lydia’s words. He knew full well he’d likely do just that without the diminutive redhead by his side. “Everything that Scott has ever said shows that he has no love lost for his father. I don’t think Stiles would falter when it comes right down to it.”
> 
> Lydia nodded. “All the same, we might need to prepare ourselves to take control if things do go sideways.”

Stiles woke up a few hours later, tangled up in the blankets and with Scott, in his lover’s bed. He watched him for a moment, then got up to take another shower. Coming home hadn’t just been to kill Rafe, or to see his family. He had another agenda, and that was to recruit Scott. He had expected it to be more difficult, and their new relationship would change things a little. But he wanted to make it all work. He sent a text as he waited for the water to warm up. ‘Got S. Meeting for coffee tomorrow?’ When he emerged from the shower, the response from Lydia made his jaw clench. _‘K.’_

Lydia smiled to herself when she saw that Stiles had received her text. She knew her succinct reply would annoy him, which was why she had done it. She had been involved with Project Ignis since the day she met Stiles, mere moments before she walked into their shared room in the hostel. She and Isaac had been pulled into a spare room and briefed, then asked to make a decision as to whether or not they wanted to help. Lydia had agreed almost instantly to work for the fledgling sector of the CIA that would include Stiles one day. She wanted to finish college and try to keep things as mundane as possible, but meeting Derek had complicated things for her, a little. What had been a simple mission to bug his home, to spy on Stiles, had resulted in her admitting a few things after they had sex, all while aiming a weapon at him, just in case her instincts had been wrong and she couldn’t trust him, after all. She smiled ruefully as she thought about how new she had been and how she should have guessed that Derek was involved, given his all-too-perfect placement to get Stiles somewhere safe, when the teen had first arrived in Beacon Hills. 

Derek approached her from behind, setting a large binder down and squinting at her. “Harassing Stiles?” He asked, looking vaguely amused at the smile on her face.

“Of course.” Lydia laughed, turning to face Derek as she moved up onto her toes for a kiss. “He’s got Scott, he says. We’re supposed to meet for coffee tomorrow like it’s any other day.” 

Derek smiled crookedly, slipping his arm around her waist and lowering his head to make it easier to kiss her back. “Went easier than I expected it to, then. I was nearly convinced that Scott would prove too stubborn. I’m glad I was wrong.” He kissed Lydia again, his hand resting on her hip. “Is Stiles bringing Scott with him tomorrow, then?”

“Yes.” Lydia nodded, not needing to look ask Stiles for confirmation. “Are you coming with me?” 

“Of course.” Derek replied, echoing her earlier reply with a chuckle. “I’m with you, wherever you go.”

Lydia grinned. “I’d be offended if I didn’t feel exactly the same way about you.” She teased. “By the way, you need to get more air in your right front tire, it’s starting to drag a little too much.” 

“Is it?” Derek murmured, grinning back at her. “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn.” Lydia laughed. “In the most literal sense. Do you think Stiles is going to be able to handle killing Rafe?” 

“I think he can more than handle it.” Derek murmured, not disagreeing with Lydia’s words. He knew full well he’d likely do just that without the diminutive redhead by his side. “Everything that Scott has ever said shows that he has no love lost for his father. I don’t think Stiles would falter when it comes right down to it.”

Lydia nodded. “All the same, we might need to prepare ourselves to take control if things do go sideways.” 

“Agreed. I’m all for the idea of multiple contingency plans.” Derek murmured. “Rafe is a slippery bastard, and I’m done with him. Whatever happens, I think you’re right and we should make sure our preferred outcome remains the same.”

“We’ve got him on a pretty typical routine.” Lydia mused, tilting her head. “He goes for a run in the morning and another one at night. Early morning might be easier. I think Stiles would prefer it, actually. They’ve always hated one another, so having Rafe see him beforehand is something he’ll want.” She smiled ruefully as she thought back over the three years of Stiles’ gripes about Scott’s biological father. 

Derek chuckled. “I think it goes a bit beyond hate, but I agree. It’ll be like a cherry on top of a sundae for him.”

“Then he’ll be waiting when Rafe comes back.” Lydia murmured, sitting down on the couch and stretching her legs out in front of her. “Probably right in the kitchen.” 

Derek snorted, sitting down on the floor beside her, tilting his head back into her lap. “He’d love that.” He commented.

“Which is how I know that’s exactly what he’s going to do.” Lydia smiled down at him. “But this is also a potential problem, because if he doesn’t learn to vary things a little, he’s going to get himself marked as a serial killer, and one wrong move could get him caught.” 

“Good point.” Derek frowned, pursing his lips. “We’ll have to talk that over with him, I think. Or maybe have Scott do it.”

Lydia nodded. “The coffee shop is on Rafe’s usual route for where he runs, in the morning. We’ll see him go past and that’ll give Stiles enough time to get over there. But we should have at least twenty minutes to talk to him, first.” 

“Then we’ll make sure to get there beforehand.” Derek reached up and grasped her hand, leaning his head back to look at her. He smiled lopsidedly. “At the very least, Stiles can think about it. I’m not too worried about him going nuts. I think he’s gung-ho and very eager about this job, but he can take the mark down and remain professional, regardless of any personal ties there might be.”

“Okay.” Lydia sighed, smiling faintly. “First thing tomorrow, then.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles nodded. “Yeah, but you’re gonna have to get it to me between now and whatever flight I can get on, once I get to the airport in Redding. I’m not even going home to pack, I have to get the hell out of here. I just wanted you to know what happened. Lydia’s pissed at me, she’s not going to listen and I’m still not sure I can trust her one hundred percent.” 
> 
> Derek nodded slowly. “I’ll get it done.” He said quietly. “I’ve got your back. Go, Stiles. I’ll get you the phone, and I’ll take care of everything else, too.”

Stiles ordered a plain black coffee for himself, yawning and scratching the back of his neck as he turned toward Scott, smiling faintly. He hadn’t spoken to Jackson or Allison yet about Scott, and he wasn’t sure how to even begin that discussion. 

Scott smiled back at Stiles, his cheeks a little red. “So…” He started teasingly. “Is this our first date?”

“Graduation was our first date.” Stiles laughed. “But this is our third one. Last night was our second. Unless you want this to be the second one, and then I’m going to tell everyone that you’re kind of slutty.” He grinned. 

“Fair enough.” Scott snorted. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kinda wanting this to be the second one. I don’t mind being called a slut.” He laughed.

Stiles put a hand on Scott’s shoulder and kissed him, smiling against his mouth. “I don’t mind it, either.” 

Scott laughed quietly against Stiles’ mouth, kissing him back. His hand rested lightly on Stiles’ thigh, and he pressed closer, leaning against the other man.

“What is this?” Lydia demanded, smiling. “When did this happen?” 

Scott looked up at her, blinking as he pulled back reluctantly. “Uh. Yesterday.” He said, and then blinked, laughing as he looked at Stiles. “Christ. Just yesterday.”

“But six months ago, retroactively.” Stiles reminded Scott. He smiled at Lydia. “I have to talk to a lot of people about it, but that can wait a little while. About an hour and a half, give or take.” 

Derek pulled up a chair, taking a seat and reaching for Lydia as he smiled faintly at the other two. “So we’re priority?” He teased. “Good, I like that.”

“Not you.” Stiles teased back as Lydia sat beside Derek. “Getting my job done is the priority.” He glanced at Scott, shrugging one shoulder at him. 

“I know what you want to do.” Lydia murmured, sipping her drink. “But you need to be cautious.” 

Derek hummed in agreement, nodding. “It's a pretty high profile job, Stiles.” He added quietly. “One move the wrong way, and you could get noticed by some people that you definitely would not want to get noticed by.”

“And repeat behaviors are a good indicator of something that local PD won’t like.” Lydia added. “So keep that in mind.” 

“I already know all of this.” Stiles muttered. He watched a group of teenagers walking past their outdoor table. “It’s weird that I was one of them just a few months ago.” 

Scott followed his gaze, tilting his head. “You were never just one of them, though.” He murmured, turning his head back to look at his lover. He smiled. “You were always something a little more.”

“So were you.” Stiles grinned. 

Lydia glanced at Derek and rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, you’re both the sun, the moon, and the stars. Shut up about it and drink your coffee.” She reconsidered. “Well, Stiles should, anyway.” She corrected, turning toward Scott. “I wanted to talk to you a little more about what we’re doing here.” 

Scott leaned forward a little, studying her. “Stiles said that, um… you have positions for, like… animal care? I mean, I'm not an expert, but I've been working as a vet assistant for the last five and a half years, and I'm in a veterinary program in college.”

“I know.” Lydia murmured. “And you’re more qualified than you think you are. You can keep attending classes, just act as a courier when we need you to, while we train you.” 

Scott nodded thoughtfully. “I can do that.” He murmured. “Delivering things is definitely something I can do.”

Lydia smiled at Scott. “Good. I have something for you now, actually.” She got a film container out of her purse and handed it to him. “Don’t open it. Take it to this address.” She scrawled it on a napkin. “Put it in the mailbox, destroy the napkin, and come right back here.”

Stiles glanced over Scott’s shoulder, reading the address. “That’ll take you about half an hour, walking. Want to borrow my rental?”

“Just get him out of here.” Lydia tapped her watch.

“Right.” Stiles tossed his key to Scott and went back into the coffee shop. Rafe was clockwork in his routines, and Stiles knew that if Scott was around, Rafe would end up stopping to talk and throw everything off. Which, he realized, was something that Lydia would have equally been aware of. Maybe moreso. When he had mentioned bringing Scott, she could have refused or suggested somewhere else. She hadn't, which meant she knew all along that she was going to have Scott’s assistance. She had even brought along something she was tasking him with, which Stiles knew wasn't normally how things were done, so either Scott’s mission was bullshit, or Stiles’ was. He turned, staring out through the plate glass window at Lydia and Derek, thinking as he scanned the sidewalk for Rafe. He glanced back at the table as Rafe ran past, then made his way outside. “Are we calling this off? You got Scott, through use of me, like you intended. You don’t have to appeal to a grieving son now, you have the happy boyfriend.”

Lydia stared passively at Stiles. “Your job,” she said calmly, “is to remove Rafael McCall from existence. Go do that. We’ll talk about your trust issues later.”

Stiles walked away, taking a few deep breaths. He used Scott’s key, lifted the night before while Scott slept, to unlock the door, letting himself in and locking it behind him. He didn't touch anything as he walked around the house. He had been there once before, and he was just as unwelcome then as he was now. He was still pissed off about the way Derek and Lydia had spoken to him, like he was new. Like he hadn't been covering his tracks since he was six. He was a few weeks from turning nineteen and knew he was inexperienced, but not green. He went up the stairs to the bathroom, eyeing it before deciding it was too small to use. He heard the front door open and two voices talking as he went across the hall, to the bedroom. One was Rafe, the other was female and all too familiar. Stiles closed his eyes and said a quick, silent prayer to a god he didn't believe in, that Melissa would leave instead of coming up the stairs. 

Melissa followed her ex-husband as he kept walking. “You’re only doing the bare minimum for Scott. He needs textbooks. And his own place. He’s old enough for that now, and he has a job, but he’s scraping by and he just spent most of his money on Christmas presents. You could afford his rent for... ninety days. He’d cover it himself, after that.”

Rafe turned in his bedroom doorway. “I really need to take a shower, so-” Whatever he had been about to say died with him, and he fell forward, into the hallway. 

Melissa glanced up from staring at her blood-splattered shirt. “Stiles! What are you doing?”

Stiles gave Melissa a mournful look. “I’m sorry. I have to.” He shot her, then moved carefully to avoid getting blood on his shoes. He would never be able to explain this to his dad or Scott. He swore, realizing that Scott had his rental car. He couldn't just disappear. He called Derek. “I need you to listen. Keep this quiet. Things didn't go exactly as planned, and I have to get out of here. If Scott’s already back, you can’t tell Lydia in front of him. Say that you’re going to the store, have Scott drive Lydia home, and meet me by the ice cream.” He was already walking in that direction, the house locked up behind him. He plastered a fake smile to his face, nodding to a few people he knew. 

Derek took a deep, slow breath, and then said softly, “Done.” His concern for Stiles, partially out of co-worker solidarity and partially out of genuine affection for the teen, and his desire to get to Stiles quickly made him stave off the questions, at least until they were in each others’ presence. “On my way.”

“If you’re not here in ten minutes, I’m going to assume something held you up and I’m gone, anyway.” Stiles muttered, hanging up. He turned the phone off and walked through the store at a sedate pace, stopping in the ice cream aisle. 

Derek made it with five minutes to spare, closing the space between himself and Stiles easily. He was silent for a moment, and then said quietly, “Were you compromised?”

“Hell yeah.” Stiles muttered. He took a deep breath. “Sort of. Yes. I don’t know. I shouldn’t have told Scott what I was doing, I just wanted him to be ready to deal with the fallout from it. But I fucked up.” He murmured. “Melissa came in with him, right up the fucking stairs to his room. I knew he was going to see me, I had to kill him because I wouldn’t ever get another chance. And then her, because she saw me. There would be no way for me to ever - I had to do it. Scott’s not going to understand that and I’m not exactly doing cartwheels over it. We were just...” He pressed his lips together, frustrated. Any shot he might’ve had at a relationship with Scott was gone. “I have to get out of here. Scott’s going to know it was me, he’s not stupid. Neither is my dad. I’m best going off the grid for the rest of my life. The only other option is going to prison and there’s no fucking way I’m doing that.” He held his phone out to Derek. “Toss this for me? I can’t see Scott to get my car back, either.” He got the key for Rafe’s house out of his pocket and held it out to Derek, next. “It’s been good knowing you. You’re gonna want a replacement for me, I’m guessing. Ally’s got aim good as mine, if not better. Jackson’s better at skating through loopholes. They’re a good team, too. But neither one of them is going to be as quick to sign up as Scott and I were. You’re going to need to give them motivation. For Jackson, it’s a place to belong. For Ally, it’s the ability to lead. If you can’t give them that, don’t bother asking.” 

Derek exhaled slowly, tugging Stiles toward him. He did nothing more than rest his forehead lightly against the teen’s, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder gently. “It’s always a good idea to expand the team,” he agreed. “But I don’t want to let you go. I know you can’t be here, I know you need to get away…” He exhaled slowly, thinking. “What if I can arrange something for you? You wouldn’t need to stay in one spot - you could continue moving, but you could still work for us. I’m sorry for what happened, Stiles, and I’m sorry that it happened to you. I’m sorry you had to make that decision.” He took the phone, studying it for a moment. “If I can get you a burner phone, would you consider it? At least for a moment?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, but you’re gonna have to get it to me between now and whatever flight I can get on, once I get to the airport in Redding. I’m not even going home to pack, I have to get the hell out of here. I just wanted you to know what happened. Lydia’s pissed at me, she’s not going to listen and I’m still not sure I can trust her one hundred percent.” 

Derek nodded slowly. “I’ll get it done.” He said quietly. “I’ve got your back. Go, Stiles. I’ll get you the phone, and I’ll take care of everything else, too.” He stepped back once. “Go.”

Stiles nodded again and walked outside, heading toward the bus stop that would take him to the Redding train station. He knew he could walk to the airport from there, or get a ride somehow, if he had to. He paid the bus fare with change from his pocket and kept his head down. He could cry later, but not yet. He felt weak and tired, but it wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning and he expected to be on a flight before sunset.

Derek’s eyes tracked Stiles as the teen moved, and he lifted his phone to his ear. “I need a favor.” He said into the receiver calmly, stepping away from the frozen food aisle and making his way to the electronics section of the store.


	18. Chapter 18

Stiles wasn’t surprised when he was approached by an airline employee, who handed him a packaged cell phone, a plane ticket and a reloadable credit card. He was flying from Redding to Portland, and he’d figure out what he was doing after that. He had an hour before he would board, so he removed the phone from the packaging and powered it on, setting it up quickly and sending Derek a text. ‘Got everything.’ 

‘Good.’ Derek replied instantly. ‘Someone will meet you when you get to your location, someone I trust implicitly. They’ll help you on your way.’

Stiles took a deep breath in, wondering if the person he was going to meet would be there to get rid of him. He hated himself for thinking it, since Derek had never done anything but help him from the moment they met, but his mind was on overdrive. He thought about asking who he was looking for, but he knew better. Whoever the person was, he would listen and get as far from California as he possibly could. ‘Thanks.’ 

‘It’s not a problem.’ Derek replied. ‘Again, I’m just sorry that this situation ever happened. I’m so sorry.’

Stiles thought about replying, but he decided against it. He pocketed the cell phone and airline ticket, then picked up a book that someone had left behind on a chair near his, just trying to give himself something to do until his flight was called. An hour later, he tossed the book aside and got up from his seat, handing the boarding pass to the attendant. 

“No luggage?” She frowned at him. 

“I didn’t think to pack anything.” Stiles blurted. “Uh, there was a death in the family and I just...” He shrugged, relieved when her stern expression turned sympathetic and she let him board without any further questions. He got to his seat on the plane, relieved that it wasn’t crowded, and wondered who would be meeting him. He knew it wouldn’t be Lydia, Derek, Isaac, Scott or Erica. They were all busy with other things. He hadn’t seen most of the Hales in at least six months, not since the day that he had graduated and they had been there for Cora. He wondered if she would be the one meeting him, since it seemed like all of the Hales were involved in Ignis. He had never asked about the chain of command, since he only had to report to Lydia and Derek, but he had a feeling that Talia and Peter were in charge. He leaned his seat back a little and decided to try to sleep, since there was nothing more he could do until the plane landed, anyway. When he opened his eyes a couple of hours later, he checked his pockets for his phone and the card. He had already ditched the gun in a locker in the airport in Redding, and the memory of that was enough to send Derek another text, letting him know where to pick it up. 

‘Got it.’ Derek replied quickly once again. ‘I’ll take care of it. What’s your ETA for landing?’

‘Just got here.’ Stiles replied. ‘Shutting the phone off.’ He held down the power button and got off the plane, looking around for any of the Hales, since he was certain now that he was meeting one in the lobby. 

Cora lifted a hand and wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Well, hey there, tiger.”

Stiles would have laughed if he didn’t feel like he was being turned inside out. “Hey.” He nodded to her. “I don’t know if you had something planned already or not, for me?” 

Cora raised her eyebrow. “Planned for you?” She laughed. “What, you think I’m gonna give you a Fredo special, like the Godfather Part Two? Sweetie, no. My brother has a soft spot a mile wide for you. And I’m pretty sure my uncle would throw me to sharks if I tried to whack you. You’re safe, I promise.” She tilted her head to the side. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here. I can’t stand people, and I can’t stand traveling assholes that think they need to be everywhere in a goddamn rush.” She glanced at him sideways. “You’re excluded from that grouping.”

“I didn’t mean that kind of plan.” Stiles retorted, shaking his head as he followed her. “I meant like, putting me on another plane or getting me a rental or a different ID or something.” 

Cora snickered. “Not just yet. You’re gonna stay with me for a few days, you know - keep on the down-low - and then I’m smuggling you to wherever the hell you wanna go.”

“Thanks.” Stiles murmured. “That’ll give me time to get some clothes and figure out what I’m doing.” 

“Don’t worry about the clothes.” Cora told him. “The second Derek told me you were coming, I set you up under an anonymous name for tailoring, all courtesy of Ignis. Again, all on the down-low. Your anonymous name comes with an anonymous identity that’s buried under another anonymous name with an anonymous identity.” She stopped and turned to look up at him. “Say the word, and Stiles Stilinski will cease to exist, and a new… character, one of your choice, will take his place.” She gestured toward the parking garage, an enormous black SUV sitting off in the far corner by itself. “Anyway. The tailor is employed by my mother, and if Derek’s soft spot for you is a mile long, that’s nothing compared to my mother’s. He’ll be stopping by tonight for your measurements, and your clothes will be ready in about two or three days, just in time for our little exodus.”

Stiles hugged Cora, sighing. “Thank you.” He blurted. “I’ll let you know, as far as names go. I need time to think. Time to rest.” 

“I’m not going to ask what happened.” Cora told him, bracing her hand gently on his back. “That’s not my business. I’m just here to provide you whatever help I can for whatever you need. What I can provide right now is a big fucking bed that you could swim in.”

“I’ll tell you, if you need me to.” Stiles murmured. “But for now, I want to sleep. Or try to, at least.” 

Cora nodded. “Alright. Just get in the Suburban for now, take either the mid or the back seat and take a nap. I’ll wake you when we get to my place.”

Stiles agreed, getting into the SUV and laying down to sleep. He was relieved that it was her; if Peter had met him, he would have known that he was as good as dead. 

Cora climbed into the SUV and dropped down in her seat, peering at the rearview mirror at Stiles for a moment. She felt a smile touch her lips, and she tapped the steering wheel before she started the vehicle up and drove out of the parking garage. As promised, nearly fifteen minutes later, she reached back between the seats and tapped at Stiles’ arm to wake him up. “Hey. We’re here.”

Stiles sat up, instantly alert as he looked around. He reached instinctively for a gun that wasn’t there, then smiled ruefully and nodded to Cora. “Okay, show me your place.” 

Cora smiled knowingly, sliding out of her seat and shutting the door behind her. “Come on.” She murmured. “I know it can’t be that comfy back there. You can sleep in a real bed, the tailor will get here, and then dinner, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Stiles agreed. He followed her out of the SUV and looked around. “I don’t think I need a whole lot, I just want maybe a couple of suits, some jeans and t-shirts. And underwear and socks.” He snorted, thinking about how little he’d had, only a few years ago and how he was back to that same situation now. 

Cora nodded, giving him a pat on the back. “I’ve got you. Maybe not the underwear and socks.” Her lips twitched. 

“Well, I can handle that myself.” Stiles laughed. “So, let’s fake my death.” 

“You’ve thought it through?” Cora asked, looking amused. “How is Stiles Stilinski going to die?”

Stiles thought for a minute. “I think drowning should do it? Make it look like I ate it in a lake somewhere.” 

“Death by drowning.” Cora nodded slowly. “Maybe we spin it. What happened, I mean. You were regretful, got drunk by the lake. Fell in. Body was never recovered.”

“I can see it.” Stiles paused, then laughed. “God, I never thought I’d end up like this. I’ll get Derek to send a few texts from my old phone and make it look like I'm already a few bottles in, typos and all that shit.” 

“Sounds good. I might know someone that could probably hack your phone, too, and make it look like someone else is texting you.” Cora added. “You know, answering your texts and shit.”

“Like I’m talking to...” Stiles tilted his head, thinking. “Hell, make it one of my old foster parents. Like I’m feeling remorseful as hell and trying to atone for every fucking thing ever...” He breathed in shakily. It wasn’t too far from the truth. If he hadn’t had Derek and Cora to help him, he figured this was exactly where he would have been and what he would have been doing. 

Cora looked up at him. “Got a name? Write it down for me, I’ll take care of the rest, yeah?” She studied him for a moment, and then unconsciously reached up and gently patted his cheek. “It can wait. Go upstairs. First bedroom on the left.”

“Nah, I can handle this much.” Stiles insisted, writing down a name and phone number for Cora. “The number might be old, I haven’t seen the guy since I was nine. But I don’t think he went much of anywhere.” He shrugged and went upstairs, waiting until he was laying down with the door closed before he started to cry. He had never had a problem with Melissa, had seen her as being a mother when he hadn’t had one in years, and he would have given anything to rewind time and take back what he had done. He figured by now, his dad knew that Melissa was dead, and so did Scott. He wondered, not if his father hated him, but how much he hated him for taking Melissa away after inadvertently being the reason that Claudia had left John, all those years ago. Scott would never forgive him, and he wouldn’t have expected him to. He hadn’t even said goodbye to Jackson or Allison, either. He felt sick to his stomach and lurched across the hall to the bathroom, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet as he retched. He peeled his clothes off and got into the shower immediately afterward - not because he had soiled his clothes (he hadn’t), but because he wanted the water to drown out the sobs that he hadn’t been able to stop. 

Several beats passed, and then arms wrapped around Stiles’ middle as a dark head rested against his shoulder. “Go ahead, let it out.” Cora told him calmly, gently rubbing his back.

“Melissa never did anything to hurt anyone and I shot her because she was just... there.” Stiles blurted. “Scott and I were brand new and I was making plans for living with him, for getting a pet, all of it. I’ll never see him again.” 

Cora stayed silent, still hugging him and just trying to lend him an ear. Eventually, she said, “You were put into a bad situation. You didn’t know she was going to be there. I feel like shit saying it, but… you needed to cover yourself. She watched you put a bullet into that fuckhead’s skull, you…” She bit her lower lip, feeling sick for trying to find justification. “You had to cover your tracks. I’m… I’m sorry about Scott.”

Stiles nodded, wiping tears out of his eyes. “I told Derek that, too. I said that I didn’t want to at all, I would take it back if I could, but I couldn’t just not take the shot at Rafe. I only had that one chance and if I tried to make up any excuse for being in his room, he’d never buy it and I’d fuck everything up. I thought maybe I could’ve talked to her, but that’s not what we’re trained to do. ‘Neutralize the target and don’t leave bystanders.’ That’s it.” 

“There’s always a point where we get fucked over by this job.” Cora muttered, shaking her head. “Always. No matter what we do, there’s always going to be a tipping point that’ll wreck us.”

“Have you had yours?” Stiles pulled away to look at Cora. “I can’t imagine you having that same problem I had today.” 

“You’re lucky enough that you’ve gotten yours out of the way this early.” Cora told him firmly. “I haven’t had mine yet. I don’t anticipate it.”

“Well, don’t let anyone borrow your rental car, ever.” Stiles muttered, laughing sadly. “I would’ve been halfway to New York right now if I hadn’t loaned Scott my car for something Lydia wanted him to do.” 

“Lydia.” Cora scowled. “That woman’s insane, I swear to god. Unfortunately, she makes my brother happy.” She shook her head, her eyes rolling. “Listen… we’ll get you where you need to go. If it’s Georgia, I’ll get you there. If it’s that giant Bean thing in Chicago, I’ll get you there. Full stop.”

“I’ll let you know.” Stiles nodded. “For now, I’m going to put my clothes back on and sleep.” He smiled crookedly. “I’m exhausted.” 

Cora nodded as well, smiling gently at him as she stepped out of the shower. “Go ahead. Things might be a little less shit when you wake up next time, you know?” She tilted her head and hugged him once more, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Go on. Don’t soak the sheets.”

Stiles smiled again and dried off, then went to his room back across the hall and laid down, staring up at the ceiling. He was going to, effectively, be dead and assume a new identity, once he figured out what that was. Too tired to think any more about it, he closed his eyes and began to drift off to sleep as he wished for a simpler time. He could practically hear his mother humming to him, the way she had when he was small. _‘Mieczko, no more stories. It’s time for bed, Stiles. I’ll have breakfast waiting when you wake up.’_


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a couple of chapters, a day ahead of schedule!

A few hours later, Stiles woke up and sat straight up in bed, catching his breath. He closed his eyes once he realized there was no real danger nearby, then got out of bed and got dressed. The tailor would be there soon, if he wasn’t already, and Stiles didn’t feel like sleeping any more than he absolutely had to, tonight. He walked down the stairs, meeting Cora’s gaze. “Mitch.” He murmured. “That’s what I want to go by, when this is over with. On paper, at least. But you’re better off not calling me Stiles ever again, anyway. Uh, my actual first name is Mieczyslaw, after my mom’s dad. And she called me _Mieczko_ when I was on her nerves.” He smiled sadly. “So Mitch is about as close as I can get to that, without going by a name that I know my dad’s going to recognize.” 

Cora’s eyes softened, even if her expression didn't change. “Mitch it is.” She murmured, wrapping an arm around him gently. “We’re staging things now. You'll be someone else soon, Mitch.”

Stiles - Mitch - felt a little relieved, even though that made him feel guilty all over again. He wished he could tell Scott goodbye, but that would turn his accidental drowning into a suicide and make things worse. “I haven’t decided on a last name. I’m still working on that. Might as well give me the same birthday, though. Nobody’s going to say shit about that. Well, unless you wanna go a year or two different.” He shook his head slightly. “Older, not younger. It’s not going to do me a goddamned bit of good if I have to repeat a year or two of high school. Make me twenty-one, yeah? Or twenty, I don’t care. Twenty-one can get me into bars without people giving me shit about it, though. Easier to do my job if the ID is authentic.” 

“I can do that.” Cora nodded in agreement. “A couple of years won't matter much in the long run, but it'll just be easier to let you do what you need to do. My ‘official’ birth year puts me at twenty-three.” Her lips twitched a little. “My mom’s changes every year. So does Peter’s, for that matter.”

“Yeah, but they can pull it off. Not that you can't.” Mitch smiled. He still felt sick to his stomach, but it hadn't even been twenty-four hours. He could forgive himself for a little bit of remorse. He wasn’t sure of a surname, and then he was. “Find me something similar enough to Rafael, for my last name. I’d say ‘Melissa,’ but that would be too weird. I just don’t want to forget that if I’m not careful, this could happen again. Lots of Melissas out there, you know?”

Cora nodded and then thought for a moment, her head tilting to the side. “I don't have any ideas just yet, but give me until tonight to think of something. I'll have at least three surnames by then, I think.”

Mitch nodded, then went into the kitchen to look for food. He could only do one thing at a time. He would eat, then deal with the tailor, then figure out where he was going to hide out for awhile. 

Cora followed him in, her eyes already locked on her phone and her brows furrowed. “What are you hungry for?” She asked absently. 

“Food.” Mitch turned toward Cora. “Seriously, I don’t care right now if it’s Pop Tarts or a steak, I’ll eat anything. I had coffee this morning and then murdered my lover’s parents, so I wasn’t really in the mood to eat, after that. But if I don’t eat now...” He shrugged, thinking about how he had once eaten every bite of food in front of him, out of fear that he wouldn’t get anything again for a long time. He wasn’t sure if this change in his perspective was good or bad. 

“Alright.” Cora replied, smiling faintly. “Carne asada. Sit down, I’ll make something and bring it out. I’m starving, too.”

Mitch sat down at the table and stayed silent, lost in thought. “The other side of the country is too obvious.” He said out loud, looking up at Cora. “Even with proof of my death, they’ll come looking for me, any way they can. And overseas is where anyone else would go, to hide. Best to stick me somewhere closer, but not too close that they’ll run into me. A bigger city, where nobody’s going to pay that much attention to a newcomer.” 

“Portland?” Cora suggested, rummaging in the fridge and setting things on the counter. “Maybe Seattle? Or somewhere south?”

“Portland could work.” Mitch nodded. “It’s big enough to blend in, small enough that they won’t think I’m hiding here. Scott’s being trained, he’ll use everything they teach him to look for me. Once he gets an idea stuck in his head, you can’t convince him to back off.” He snorted. “I don’t know why he’s like that. At all.” 

Cora looked at him, lifting one slender eyebrow. “You sure?” She asked. “You have no idea why he might be the way he is?”

“It was a joke. I know I’m insufferable when I want something to be a certain way. Nevermind.” Mitch rubbed his eyes and rested his chin on his forearms, on the table. 

Cora put the food down that she’d started to gather and walked over to Mitch, putting her hands on his shoulders from behind. She rubbed gently, squeezing his shoulders and upper arms with a sigh. “I'm sorry. I wish I could make this shit easier on you, but the truth is that, as awful as it is, you'll be stronger for it in the end. Mistakes… fuck-ups… the really awful things… they have a way of sticking with you and making sure that you learn from them, you know? What happened was terrible. But… you're not going to let yourself let it happen ever again. Not from this point forward.”

“I know.” Mitch sat up, tilting his head back to give her an impish smile. It was forced, but it would have to do, for now. “Where’s my dinner?” 

“About to be all over your face. Or up your ass.” Cora replied pleasantly, giving him a pay on the cheek before she turned away and assembled the steak into soft tacos and the condiments and toppings into bowls. She set the platter in the center of the table, and then plopped down next to him. “Have at it.”

“The digestive system doesn’t work at all the way you seem to think it does.” Mitch grinned and bit into a tortilla, sitting back in his seat. 

“Shut up and enjoy your taco.” Cora snorted, viciously tearing into the steak with her teeth. She groaned. “I’m so fucking hungry, this is the best thing I’ve had in ages.”

“What do you usually eat?” Mitch glanced at the fridge, then got up and got a beer for himself. Somewhere, Stiles Stilinski was sitting on a beach and getting plastered, about to die. Mitch uncapped the beer in his hand and took a long drink of it, saying goodbye to the life he had known. 

Cora leaned back as she finished the taco, starting on another one almost immediately. “Usually fast food. I hate fast food, but… I mean, there’s a reason that they call it fast.”

“Yeah, me too.” Mitch murmured. “I thought it was heaven for a long time, though. I didn’t get to eat a lot, for a long time. My dad -” He cleared his throat. “Stiles’ dad and Melissa made sure Stiles had enough to eat. I’m trying to dissociate.” He smiled crookedly. “Where the fuck is the tailor? Is he a vampire? Shouldn’t he have been here by now?” 

“He’s in the driveway.” Cora replied offhandedly, not taking her eyes off of the taco. “He won’t come in until I give him the all clear. And I’m eating, so… no all clear.” She finally looked up at him. “Unless you’re ready? Are you still hungry?”

“I am, but my stomach’s in knots. I’ll be fine to eat something after I finish this.” Mitch held the beer bottle up. “I’m not a lightweight, I’m not going to fall over after one beer. He can handle everything in about ten minutes.” He took another long drink of his beer and finished the taco he had started on, then eyed the plate and picked up a second one. 

Cora smiled faintly. “He can take care of this shit in ten minutes.” She agreed. “Guaranteed.”

“I meant ten minutes from now.” Mitch explained, giving Cora a curious look and wondering what had happened to her in the past six months to make her unable to understand what he was saying. This was the third time he had felt a need to explain himself. 

“Don’t give me that look.” Cora said a moment later, looking away from him and sighing. “I know, I know. I’m not purposely misunderstanding you to fuck with you. Some of my training…” She pursed her lips together tightly, faltering a little before continuing. “Some of my training fucked up my head a little. I opted for an expertise in detonation and explosives.” She smiled wryly. “I wasn’t at the proper distance when some of the bombs went off. It fucked up my hearing. And… maybe rattled my brains around a little.”

“And now you’re stuck here, playing hostess to anyone in need of a safehouse?” Mitch guessed. 

Cora looked sulky. “For now. I’m determined to be back in the field. Soon as my mom loosens the reins a little.” She looked up at him. “Dude, it’s driving me crazy, I fucking hate playing hostess. I hated having people sleeping over in high school, and they weren’t even my frigging guests.”

“I know.” Mitch reached across the table for Cora’s hand. “Tell your mom you need a break. Come with me somewhere. I don’t have to really settle anywhere right now, and I don’t feel like being by myself. I’m going to be hard to deal with, but I’ll try to stay the fuck out of your way when I know it’s going to be bad.” 

Cora studied him and then smiled crookedly. “And I’ll stick around if I know you’re gonna need me. Which you will, because I’m awesome and how could you not, right?”

“Damn straight.” Mitch nodded, smiling back. “I didn’t have a lot of friends to start with, but you and Derek are pretty much all I have left now, and he doesn’t even count. He’s my boss. Technically.”

Cora snorted. “He’s not your boss. My mother is your boss. Derek is her delegator-slash-Left-Hand-In-Training.” She paused. “But yeah. You still have us.”

“Please, I barely talk to your mom.” Mitch finished his beer and tossed the bottle into the trash can. “All my orders come from Derek and Lydia.” 

“Because they come from my mom.” Cora insisted, laughing. “Ergo, she’s your boss.” She finished off her last taco, then stood up. “Come on. Go to the parlor, I’m going to let my guy in.” She started for the door, and then stopped, turning to look at him with a wicked smirk. “Oh, and strip.”

Mitch paused, then rolled his eyes. But he did what she asked, waiting in his boxers for the tailor. 

*****

Mitch finished his second beer and did sit-ups and push-ups to burn off the nervous energy he had from standing still for half an hour while the tailor took his measurements. He could feel the old need to flee resurfacing, but he had to wait for a few things, like proper identification and a cover to keep him busy. 

Cora appeared in the doorway, observing him silently before she leaned back against the door. “Well.” She said, sighing. “You’ll be pleased to know that I have your new information on standby, for when you pick a surname. I have a few in mind. Nothing concrete, yet, I wasn’t sure what you were going to like.”

“Give me what you’ve come up with.” Mitch got to his feet and looked at Cora. 

Cora approached him. “I know you said you wanted names that were based off of Rafe’s, not Melissa’s. But I found some that at least began like hers, too.” She shrugged. “Just suggestions, that’s all.” She handed him the small list she’d written up. “Meletti and Melmoth are my two stand-outs for Melissa.” She murmured, looking up at him. “And there’s Rabb, and Raff.” She pointed them out. “And Rapp. I basically searched any name that might come anywhere close to Rafael’s name.”

Mitch eyed the paper, then snorted as he looked up at Cora. “Do you see how white I am? Why would I use... you know what? Yeah, let’s just go with that. Rapp. That works for me.” 

“I couldn’t find any damn Polish names that sounded right, alright?” Cora snorted back at him, rolling the paper up and smacking him with it on the arm. “Fine. Rapp it is. Mitch Rapp.” She looked thoughtful. “Actually a pretty good sounding name.”

Mitch nodded. “Great. Get it set up for me and I’ll be out of here as soon as I get everything together, whenever that tailor finishes up.” He went back into the kitchen and started washing their dishes from dinner, pausing with his hands in the water when it occurred to him that he could call Scott, try to explain himself, hope to make him understand. “No, stupid.” He muttered to himself, shaking his head. “You fucked up, you deal with it.” 

Cora started the process and quickly and easily brought Mitch Rapp into existence, while helping bring an end to Stiles Stilinski. She walked out of the living room and toward the kitchen in time to catch Mitch talking to himself. She listened quietly to him, shaking her head. She exhaled, and then interrupted, calling out loudly and deliberately. “Hey, so - you’re still cool with me going with you, right?” It was all she could think of doing to distract him from whatever it was he was thinking.

“Yeah.” Mitch pulled the plug out of the sink after making sure all of the dishes were washed and rinsed. He dried his hands on a towel and turned toward Cora. “Where do you want to go?” 

“Well… we could go scouting for your new place, if you want?” Cora suggested. “Temporary or not, it’s good to at least have a home base for a little while. And then maybe Denver?”

Mitch pursed his lips, mulling it over. “Yeah, I’m thinking Cincinnati.” He admitted. “It’s quiet and out of the way, for the most part. Big enough to blend in, small enough to not be a logical choice.” He shrugged, smiling tensely. 

Cora nodded after a moment. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’m game.” She agreed.

“I’ll need a job, too. Something I can bail on without people blinking. Fast food or whatever else, where nobody’s going to give a shit if I just stop showing up one day. I’ve never understood why so many operatives go high-profile.” 

Cora laughed. “Because they’re pretentious cocks, that’s why.” She tapped her chin. “Pretty much any fast food job is good for that. Retail jobs, too. I think it’d be a good idea for you to have a couple of false identities when it comes to that, too. You know, so no one comes looking for Mitch.”

“Okay.” Mitch snorted. “I can be... uh, I don’t know, what’s a generic name? Josh Greenberg?” He glanced at Cora, wondering if she remembered their classmate at all.

“Don’t you _dare_ be that dude.” Cora told him. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but that kid was a rare, precious goddamn fucking unicorn, let him keep his name.” She snorted. “Think more generic. Smith. Pick a Smith name. There’s literally a fucking million of them. Or Johnson.”

“Yeah, because me being Stan Smith isn’t obvious at all.” Mitch rolled his eyes. “Look, just... I can’t believe you suggested Johnson.” 

Cora couldn’t help it, bursting into laughter. “I’m sorry. It was there. I had to say it.”

“Maybe something like Brown, as a last name? It’s common enough, won’t have anyone assuming shit, and I can use whatever the hell first name I want with it.” Mitch pointed out. “Because it won’t matter if I go by Stiles then, or Kevin, or... I don’t know, Princess Sparkle-Fairy.” 

Cora grinned crookedly. “Princess Sparkle-Fairy Brown sounds like a fairly decent fake identity to me. Alright, go with Brown. Pick another name, too, another low-key one. Maybe Williams? Jones? I don’t know, just make sure you’ve got something to cover your ass if you’re going to be working. I’m going to look up job sites for you.” She paused. “And maybe me, actually. There might be some parlors looking for new artists.”

“You do tattoos?” Mitch looked interested, but he shook his head a moment later. “Too hard to cover up, too easy to get caught. But if I need something drawn on, I know where to find you. Williams, for the other last name. And we’ll go with, uh, Kevin and Travis. Just typical first names for guys that are pretty much guaranteed to be slackers.” 

“Sounds about right to me.” Cora huffed. “And yeah, I do tattoos. Piercings, too, but less so.” She shook her head. “I got into it after Derek got his, and then I apprenticed with this really awesome guy while I was doing my training. It’s not full time, obviously. I just do this on the side.” She smiled faintly at him. “But the shit comes in handy if I have to go undercover for any reason.”

“Maybe I should learn how to do something like that.” Mitch mused. “All I really know how to do is this.” He shrugged. “I’m going to try to sleep.” 

Cora’s eyes softened, and she nodded. “Go ahead.” She murmured, and reached up to touch his arm lightly. “I’ll try to keep quiet.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, he shrugged and then said, bluntly, “We’re werewolves.”
> 
> “Yeah, and I’m the pagan god of sucking dick.” Mitch rolled his eyes.

A few days later, Mitch signed as Kevin Brown on a six-month lease, for a studio apartment in Cincinnati. He adjusted glasses he didn't need, then gave the apartment manager a sheepish smile before he walked over to the windows to peer out. “Hey, Claire, come check out this view!” He smiled at Cora. They already knew what the view would be like, but Mitch wanted to really see it. He was across the street from a church, which made him a little wary, but there was a city bus stop directly across from him, which he knew would help him out, at some point. 

Cora smiled back at him, making her way to his side to peer out the window with him. “Oh, gosh.” She blurted. “It’s lovely. This is about ten times better than any of the other places we saw.” She grinned up at Mitch. “You chose well.”

Mitch smiled back at her, briefly wondering if he was now the sort of man who would do any number of things that Stiles hadn’t been fond of. Was he a church-goer? A golfer? Did he rescue stray kittens with anime eyes from parking lots? He took a deep breath in and looked out the window once more. His instincts were screaming at him to call someone, to let them know that he was sorry. But his instinct had also been to shoot Melissa, whose only fault had been concern for Scott. Mitch tightened his grip on the windowsill. He turned to face the apartment manager. “I can start moving stuff in today, right? I don’t have a whole lot. Uh, I got into it with my stepdad.” He shrugged sheepishly. “He tossed me out and my mom... well, you probably don’t care to hear this. Sorry. It’s just been...” He bit his lip, shrugging again at the woman. 

“It’s alright,” She said, her gaze instantly going sympathetic. “Yes, you can move in. As soon as possible seems best.” She smiled at him, glancing at Cora. “Is your girlfriend going to be helping you?”

“What.” Cora replied flatly, blinking.

“She’s my sister.” Mitch blurted. “We’re close, but not that close.” 

The manager flushed, looking embarrassed. “Oh, I’m so sorry, that was - my mistake. I apologize.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll, uh… just let you get to it.” She beamed at them, holding up the apartment keys and placing them down on the counter. “I’ll see you around!” She called as she walked out of the apartment.

Cora waited until she was certain that the woman was gone, and then spun to look at Mitch, her lips twitching manically. “What the fuck.”

Mitch laughed. “Welcome to the Midwest, where any guy standing beside any girl means they’re together. Can’t have anyone just being friends or relatives, no. It’s straight up Noah’s Ark, out here.” 

Cora rubbed a hand over her face. “Jesus christ. How the hell have these people survived as long as they have?” She muttered. 

“Two by two, like I said.” Mitch murmured, smiling. 

Cora snickered quietly. “Then survival of the fittest should have won out. These people are fucking ridiculous.”

“They’re not all like this.” Mitch mused. “Or at least, I don’t think they are.” He walked toward the door, picking up the apartment keys on the way. “Come on, _sis_ , let’s go get my stuff out of my car.” In addition to the tailored clothes, he had picked up a few things from a Walmart and de-tagged the clothes when he got back to Cora’s. He ran them through a few cycles in the washing machine to make them look older, like he wasn’t the kind of guy who could afford to go out and buy himself a lot of new clothes. He had stuffed everything into a trash bag and a couple of small boxes, then loaded it into the back of a cheap car he had bought for himself. Kevin Brown had it easier at twenty-one than Stiles had at fifteen, but they weren’t much different. 

Cora smiled faintly and budged up against him, tucking herself under his arm and wrapping her own around his waist. “I’m with you, _bro_ ,” she quipped. “Think we look enough alike that we could get away with being ‘twins’?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Mitch laughed. “Derek’s going to lose his shit over this.” He led the way down the flight of stairs and outside, to the Monte Carlo he had paid cash for, the day before. It was older than him, but the previous owner had taken good care of it. He gave it an appreciative smile and opened the door, leaning the passenger seat forward and reaching in to get his trash bag and one of the boxes.

Cora laughed. “Yeah, maybe.” She agreed. She reached out to take the box from him, and then grabbed another one, putting it in top of the first one. 

“You sure you want to carry both of those? I’m not saying you’re incapable, just that you don’t have to do all of that.” Mitch gave Cora a curious look. For as long as he had known the Hales, he thought there might be something different about them, and not just that they were a long line of CIA agents. 

Cora gave him a blithe smile. “I've got this,” she promised. “I'll come back for another when I'm done.” She hiked the boxes up and headed for the apartment. 

“Well, there isn’t another one.” Mitch reminded her as he followed her back into the building. “We can go get more stuff once this is all set up, though.” 

Cora stopped, her head tilting to the side with a distant expression on her face. She blinked and shook her head, looking back at Mitch sheepishly. “Right. Sorry. Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

“I think you should sit down and rest.” Mitch frowned, setting his bag on the floor and taking the boxes from her. He put them on the kitchen counter and frowned. He didn’t even have any furniture. “Fuck it, I’m calling Derek. You need a doctor. This isn’t right.” 

“No, no, no, don’t you dare call him!” Cora protested. “I’m fine, Stiles - fuck, Mitch, I - goddammit, I’m fine, I just…” She shook her head. “A doctor’s not gonna be able to help me, anyway.”

“Have you even tried?” Mitch demanded, ignoring Cora’s slip-up. He shook his head and called Derek, anyway. “Hey, this complicates things a little further, but you need to get help for Cora.” 

“Cora doesn’t need the kind of help that most medical professionals insist on prescribing.” Derek replied immediately. He paused. “Has she fainted? Is something going on with her?”

“No, she’s just having memory issues and spacing out a little. How could a doctor not help with that?” Mitch looked at Cora, wondering what the hell was wrong with the Hales. They had never struck him as being the backwater sort of people who thought modern medicine was evil. 

Cora scowled back at him. “I’m fine,” she snapped.

Derek sighed. “Listen, Mitch… Cora’s problem is a little more, ah… complicated than just memory issues and spacing out. But it isn’t something that most other doctors can help with. Cora’s a special case, and we’ve been trying to convince her to see someone for the last few months - since her training - but she won’t go. She says she’s fine, and honestly, she has seemed better, but she’s still… faltering, sometimes.”

“Fix it.” Mitch snapped, fed up with Cora’s insistence that she was fine when she wasn’t. He tugged the useless glasses off of his face and squinted, wishing for coffee or beer. “I don’t care which way you want me to spin this. She’s my friend and things aren’t going so well for her, but this also messes up what the hell I’m trying to do out here.” 

Derek pursed his lips. “I’ll take care of it.” He muttered. “Not that she’s going to damn well listen to me, when she won’t even listen to our mother, but fine, I’ll drag her kicking and screaming. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

Mitch smirked. “You’re already outside the building, aren’t you?” He walked over to the window and peered out. 

Derek peered up at the window and raised his middle finger at Stiles, looking unimpressed. “Listen, if you want me to take care of her, box her in. Don’t you dare let her leave until I get up there!” He called.

“Yeah, okay, you dick.” Mitch muttered, hanging up. He crossed the room and shut the door, locking it and leaning back against it. 

“Is he out there right now?” Cora demanded. “Stiles, let me out. Okay, there isn’t fucking anything wrong with me, it was just one goddamn isolated incident during training, I was fucking working with bombs, what the fuck do you think is going to happen for christ’s sake? Don’t you dare let him take me anywhere. I will climb out the fucking window, I don’t care, don’t let him in here.”

“Call me Stiles one more time and I’ll drag you out myself.” Mitch muttered. “Stiles is dead.” 

“He’s not fucking dead, actually, a cadaver from a lab that looked enough like you to fool people is fucking dead in the bottom of a goddamn lake. The real deal is standing in front of me going by Mitch.” Cora snapped at him. “Excuse the fuck out of me for referring to you by your real goddamn name like I have for the past _forever_ and not immediately latching onto your new name. It takes a while to get used to, alright?”

The door knob suddenly rattled, Derek’s voice coming through. “It’s me. Let me in, and we’ll explain, alright? It’s about time we told you, anyway.”

Mitch reached behind him to unlock the door, wondering what else had been kept a secret from him. He opened the door, turning toward Derek. “This had better not be some Area Fifty-One shit.” 

Derek sighed and stepped inside, catching Cora around the waist when she tried to launch herself past him. He planted her firmly down in front of him and glared. “Stay.” He growled, and pinched Cora’s lips shut when she bared her teeth at him. He locked the door, leaning against it, and studied Stiles for a long moment, looking as though he was debating on how to say what he needed to say. Eventually, he shrugged and then said, bluntly, “We’re werewolves.”

“Yeah, and I’m the pagan god of sucking dick.” Mitch rolled his eyes. “Just tell me the truth, Cora doesn’t want to go to the hospital because doctors freak her out. It’s normal.” 

Derek rolled his eyes. “Has Cora ever seemed like the type to be afraid of going to the hospital? For that matter, to be afraid of anything?” He looked at his younger sister, lips pursed, and then gestured at her. “Show him.”

“Fuck no.” Cora snapped at him. “I don’t have to show him shit! Did you even talk to Mom and Peter about this before you decided to blow everything out in the great wide open?”

“Would you rather I have told him to take you to the fucking hospital and watch as they told him that there was nothing fucking wrong with you?” Derek snarled back. “Stop being a goddamn brat and _show him_.”

A low growl emanated from Cora’s throat, and she suddenly whipped her head around, eyes flashing gold, fangs sprouting, ears lengthening and wolfish hair growing as she glared at Mitch. “Fine.”

Mitch blinked, taking a step back and clenching his fists to stop himself from reaching for his gun. “Okay.” He blurted. “So, you’re actually a werewolf. Then... if nothing is wrong with you, then how is something wrong with you? How does that work?” He held a hand up, taking another step back and putting his back against the wall, his arms held out to his sides. He wanted to fold his arms across his chest, but he wouldn’t be able to reach for his gun - if he needed to - and he wasn’t sure what was going on. 

Derek watched him calmly, angling himself to show Mitch that he wasn’t a threat while simultaneously maneuvering himself in front of Cora to protect her. “We brought Cora to the training center when you graduated. You were initially supposed to start together, but… well, you know how that went.” He cleared his throat. “In the middle of training, we had a breach in security. Some hunters got wind of us and managed to infiltrate the facilities - it’s happened before, and wolf noses aren’t perfect, especially in human form. We don’t always catch on when something’s wrong. In any case, the field that Cora was using for detonation practice was in plain view. She didn’t get far enough away from one bomb that went off, but she was far enough that all it should have done, in a controlled explosion, was make her ears ring for a few days. Instead…” He looked at his little sister once more.

Cora looked back at him, and then looked down, shifting in place. “The hunters replaced the bomb with one of their own.” She mumbled. “One with wolfsbane. Basically… I got gassed. Wolfsbane on its own, when it’s in plant form, is dangerous. Poisonous, deadly, but you’re safe if you catch it in time. Gaseous wolfsbane… might as well be a death sentence.”

“She was wearing a mask at the time, so she wouldn’t breathe in any dirt or dust, just in case, but she took the mask off too early, and got hit full-on with the remnants of the blast. It should have just made her ears ring.” Derek repeated. “Instead, she was poisoned, and it took too long for us to realize what had happened. The gas had all but disappeared by the time she got back for us to see what was wrong. All she would say was that she felt dizzy, and that she had a headache. When the headache hadn’t disappeared after an hour, we were even more worried, and when a day had passed, and she was stumbling around like she was drunk - and then fainted in front of the entire compound - we rushed her to an off-site medical facility that an associate of ours works at, and he… Well, to be honest, I still don’t know what he did, but he saved her.” He put his hand on the center of Cora’s back, and her features bled back to normal at his touch. “She’s still taking the mixture of whatever it was, and believe it or not, she has improved.”

Cora grimaced. “The spacing out is just because I can hear people talking a mile away.”

“And the memory loss?” Mitch thought for a moment, then looked at Derek. “Is this why you actually recruited Scott? To let him in on it, so he can help?” 

Derek nodded once, sharply. “Scott’s boss is… also an associate of ours. He recommended Scott when he saw how proficient he was with medical treatment and his bedside manner when it came to treating animals.” He was silent for a moment. “Scott’s a great asset, and he has really good ideas. Deaton wants to keep him trained and encourage him to come up with his own ideas in case something like this happens to anyone else.”

“Well, now I get why you’re all involved in Ignis.” Mitch nodded. “Count me out, though. I mean, I don’t know if that was part of your plan, to turn me or something. Future reference, if I happen to say ‘bite me,’ I don’t mean it literally.” 

“The plan was never to turn you.” Derek murmured. “It was considered. If Mom had thought for an instant that you’d accept it, or ask for it, she would’ve done it in a heartbeat. You at least would’ve been asked, and your decision respected if you’d said no.” He paused. “We’ve got humans involved in Ignis. Wearing fangs isn’t a requirement.”

“You never answered me about the memory loss, though.” Mitch glanced around the small apartment. “I’ve got to get some furniture in here. At least a bed.” 

“I’ll help you with that.” Derek replied, and then gestured at the other man. “The memory loss comes and goes. It’s a part of it. We think there was a possibility that the wolfsbane, when she breathed it in, hit a part of her brain and just…” He faltered, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. “Like I said. She’s improved. But when it first happened, there were points where she forgot Laura’s name. Dad’s name. What we did. Even what we were. The first time she shifted after the incident was not… um, not the best situation to be in.” He fell silent. “She had to be sedated.”

“And I can be certain that she won’t flip out at any point when it’s just me and her?” Mitch gave Cora a wary look. “I mean, I’m technically already dead, but that doesn’t mean I want to die.” 

“Don’t look at her like that.” Derek said gently. “She’s not a ticking time bomb. This was ages ago, I promise you, she is better now. She won’t be completely back to normal - she might not ever be completely back to normal. If the memory issues persist and her treatment stops working, we’ll find something else. We always do. But no, she won’t… flip.”

“Six months isn’t ages ago, Derek.” Mitch argued. “And I’m a little entitled to freak the fuck out when I find out that one of my former lovers and his sister are shapeshifters.” 

“Werewolves.” Derek repeated firmly. “There is a difference. And for us, six months is a drop in the bucket. Laura did a backflip off the roof of our house and shattered every bone in her leg when she landed. She was walking on it again by that night. I once had a pole shoved through my chest and nearly bled out. Two days later, I was fine.” He lifted his shirt and placed his hand over the spot. He sighed. “You can freak out. Absolutely freak out. Hell, if you decide you don’t trust me anymore now, that you can’t ever trust me again, I wouldn’t blame you. If you want to disassociate from Ignis, I’ll back you up and leave you be, I’ll tell Mom and Peter to leave you alone, too. You’ll never have to associate with us ever again, you can do your own thing.”

“Give me a few days. To myself.” Mitch gave the werewolves an apologetic look. “I’ll call, either way. Let you know what I’m thinking.” 

Derek nodded, like he’d been expecting that response. “Alright. We’ll… talk to you in a few days, then. Cora, come on.”

Cora gazed between them, and then grimaced, her shoulders slumping a little. She moved to Mitch’s side and hesitated, then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t think badly of me.” She whispered. “Please.” She paused again, and then pulled away, moving to Derek’s side.

Mitch cleared his throat, not saying anything until after they left, not entirely certain that they could hear him. “Don’t think badly of me, either.” He muttered. He walked over to the boxes and opened one, then started unpacking.


	21. April 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you really think I’d gloss over a detail?” Lydia asked.
> 
> Scott shook his head, keeping his eyes lowered. “I don’t think you would, no.” He mumbled. “But… things can go wrong.”

Lydia carried a folder into the animal clinic, wrinkling her nose and fighting the urge to touch her hair. It was raining lightly outside, the first warm rain since last September, and she wanted to go outside and enjoy it. But she had business to tend to, first. “Scott?” She called out. 

“Inside the exam room.” Scott said shortly, wholly focused on the German Shepherd he was tending to. “What is it?”

Lydia smiled faintly at the dog as she walked into the room. “I have a few things I want you to do, around the country. There are plane tickets and no real rush to get back, although I expect these delivered in a reasonable time frame.” 

“Fine.” Scott mumbled. “I’ll take care of it. Let me finish up with Bronx, and I’ll get started.”

“I could have easily done this myself. I just think you need time away.” Lydia admitted. “There’s no specific order to these, but I thought it would be easier to drop them off in order of distance.” 

“Start from the furthest out and make my way back?” Scott asked softly. “Can I do that please?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, too.” Lydia smiled gently at her friend. “You’re not going to need a passport, it’s all domestic. Here to Maine, to New Jersey, to Massachusetts and Florida, and then zig-zagging after that, I guess. It shouldn’t take more than a month, assuming you need that much time.” 

Scott nodded, and didn’t say anymore until he finished up with the Shepherd. He ran his fingers gently through the scruff on Bronx’s neck, then lifted the dog and lowered him to the ground. “Good boy,” he said softly, and swallowed hard, smiling weakly when Bronx turned and licked his face before resting his head on Scott’s shoulder. Scott sniffed, petting the dog affectionately before he stood up and led Bronx back to his cage. When he turned back to Lydia, he was rubbing his hands together. “Could I… maybe take a little longer than that?” He asked quietly.

“Three months?” Lydia guessed. “Or six? Because I already made contingency plans for both. I want everything delivered within a month, but you don’t have to come back after that. Where do you want to go?” 

Scott hesitated, looking uncertain. “I’m not sure. Just… Away. Maybe… six months. I just, I can’t stick around. Not right now.” He looked at her. “You know?”

“I know. Deaton’s also aware of this. Make the drop-offs, and then I’ll find you somewhere to stay for a few months.” Lydia already had a good idea of where to send Scott, but she wanted to give him a chance to decide on a location for himself, before she took matters into her own hands. She hadn’t seen or heard from _Mitch_ since just before Christmas, the day she sent Stiles on a mission and things had fallen apart. She knew he was still active, since she was partly responsible for keeping track of where money went, and he had mostly stayed in Cincinnati, but she knew there had been a period of about two weeks where he was in Miami. That was none of her business, and she didn’t care what he was doing. But Scott would.

Scott nodded in acceptance, looking down. “Thank you.” He murmured. “I’ll get it done.” He didn’t really care that his job under Lydia basically consisted of him being a glorified gofer. It was enough that he got to travel, and that they let him work with animals when he was home, which was something he’d wanted to do since he was a child. But it had been long enough, seeing the Sheriff’s miserable face every day, recalling that while Scott had lost both of his birth parents and his new lover, the Sheriff had just lost his wife and the son he’d had with with the love of his life. He couldn’t stand the depressing, haunted atmosphere of the house anymore, which was far too quiet and far too miserable. He hated to abandon John, but he needed to be gone, and if he was honest with himself, the shock of what had happened should’ve been enough to send him fleeing across the country.

“I’ll give you two weeks to decide on a place, and then I’ll make arrangements and let you know, if I haven’t heard from you. But I expect the usual check-in after every drop point.” Lydia glanced at her watch. “You should take this, and go home and pack.” 

Scott nodded, reaching out to accept the folder. “I will.” He murmured. “I’ll call you when I’m finished packing. I don’t think I’ll need two weeks, but I’ll take at least one.” He paused, suddenly looking over his shoulder at the animals worriedly. “Will they be okay while I’m gone? Deaton will be here, right?”

“Yeah, and we’ll get someone to cover for you, just in case. It’s all set. Do you really think I’d gloss over a detail?” Lydia asked, faltering because nobody had accounted for the possibility of Melissa following Rafe into the house, that morning.

Scott shook his head, keeping his eyes lowered. “I don’t think you would, no.” He mumbled. “But… things can go wrong.”

“I’ll see you later.” Lydia murmured, knowing there was nothing she could say to defend herself or Ignis. She walked outside, calling Derek as she got into her car. 

“Lydia.” Derek greeted quietly. “What can you tell me? How is he?”

“Depressed.” Lydia commented. “I told him it shouldn’t take more than two weeks to a month, he asked for six months. He was worried about leaving Deaton, but I told him we’ll get someone else to cover for him being gone. He doesn’t know yet where he wants to go, once the drops are done.” 

Derek was silent for a long moment, and then sighed. “Should… should we send someone with him, do you think?” He asked carefully. “I don’t know. I understand why he needs the space, but… Christ, I’m worried about him.”

“So am I.” Lydia bit her lip as the solution occurred to her. “All right, you’re not going to like what I have in mind, but I don’t really care. Send Mitch. He doesn’t have to reveal himself, he just has to tail Scott and monitor him. I'm not sure Scott knows how to sweep a room yet. Monitoring him can’t be that difficult.” 

“It might prove to be difficult for Mitch.” Derek said quietly. “He might be tempted to reveal himself to Scott… they’d barely just gotten involved with each other…” He trailed off, biting his lower lip. “But Mitch is careful. Logical in a way that Scott isn’t. If anyone could keep an eye on Scott and keep him safe without revealing himself, I have no doubt it would be Mitch. Alright.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll pass the word along.”

“Thanks.” Lydia murmured, trying to move past the guilt she felt for Melissa’s death. “What do you want for dinner?” 

Derek thought for a moment, smiling faintly and trying to push away the guilt he felt as well. “Thai? Or maybe Korean. My treat.”

“Korean sounds great.” Lydia sighed shakily. “And after we eat, I’m looking into making an appointment with Morrell.” 

“Alright… Yeah.” Derek agreed. “I think I might need to do that, too.” He exhaled, and then said, “Mitch knows. About the family. Me, Cora. He’s aware of Cora’s problems, of what happened during her training, and I had her show him her fangs. Mom and Peter know.” He snorted. “They aren’t terribly pleased with me right now. I don’t care, he deserved to know, but the point is… I think maybe we should look into having one of Morrell’s colleagues come out for him, too.”

“I’ll make the calls for that while you pick up dinner.” Lydia agreed. “How settled is Mitch? Can he pack up and go wherever you send him? Or should I just send Scott to him?” 

“I think he can, and more than willingly, would pack up and go.” Derek sighed. “I think he’s still thinking of running, honestly. Maybe if we send him after Scott, it would ease some of that… flight desire he’s got.”

“I doubt that.” Lydia snorted, starting her car. “He’s been running since he was a child, he’s probably incapable of stopping.” She pulled away from the curb. “We should send them both somewhere nice, assuming Scott doesn’t make a decision for a place on his own. I guess all we can do is wait two weeks and see.” 

“What are your back-up plans for Scott, if he hasn’t picked somewhere to go?” Derek asked her. “I know you, I know you’ve got back-ups for your back-up at this point.”

Lydia smiled. “I was planning to send him to Cincinnati, but I think Sti- Mitch needs a change of location. Did he like Miami?” 

“Loved Miami, hated that he was in Florida.” Derek snorted. He thought quietly for a moment. “What about Baltimore?” He suggested. 

“Baltimore sounds good.” Lydia agreed. “We’ll have to give Mitch more information than we give Scott, of course. I’ll probably give Scott a lot to do, to keep him busy. I don’t want him sitting in an apartment for five months, doing nothing at all.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Derek agreed. “I'm sure between the two of us, we’ll come up with enough to keep them distracted.”

“I’ll just tell Scott I’m sending him there. I’ll make up things for him to do, if I have to.” Lydia smiled to herself. “I love you. I’ll see you at home.” She hung up, calling Scott back. “There’s no need to figure out where you’re going. I need you in Baltimore. I’m setting things up for you. Make the deliveries within two weeks, then go there. You’ll get more details once it’s all set up. I’m getting you a six month lease right now.” 

Scott hesitated, and then said quietly, “Okay. Maybe that’s better than what I had in mind, anyway.” He didn’t elaborate at first, and then seemed to rethink it. “I had been thinking of Puerto Rico. To visit my nana, but…” He huffed out a laugh. “I gotta get away from mourning relatives, you know? So… Baltimore. I can do Baltimore.”

“Good. I’ll have it all set up by the time you’re done with the drops.” Lydia hung up, parking in front of the house she and Derek had bought together, a year earlier. It was the kind of home she had wanted for herself since before the CIA and Stiles entered her life, and she wasn’t going to complain that a boyfriend, a dog and a cat had come along with it. She walked into the kitchen and poured two glasses of wine, double-checking that Charlie was shut in a room where she couldn’t get to the glass that Lydia set on the counter, for Derek. She sipped her drink and took her shoes off, walking back into the living room and turning her computer on. She had to get an apartment for Scott, make sure it was furnished, and schedule plenty of things for him to do around the city for at least five months’ time. Derek could take care of arrangements for Mitch, since he was the assassin’s handler, anyway. All the same, she verified that the complex she found had more than one vacancy. 

Derek came home a while later, dropping his jacket onto the couch by the foyer and heading immediately toward the living room, slipping his arms around his girlfriend and burying his face in her neck with a slow exhale. “He’s for it.” He said quietly after several moments of just steadily breathing in Lydia’s scent. One hand slipped down and flattened against her stomach possessively. “He started looking up information on the city pretty much the minute I dropped the name. There was some hesitation when I mentioned Scott, but I think he’ll be fine. And we already figured that, anyway.”

Lydia leaned back against Derek. “Good. I found them the perfect building. Do you want me to set up his lease, since I'm already doing Scott’s? Your glass of wine is on the counter.” 

Derek pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’re wonderful. Yes, please. I think that would help a lot.” He nuzzled her cheek before he straightened up and went into the kitchen before returning with the wine glass in one hand, and the wine bottle in the other. He took a sip, setting the bottle down on the desk. “Charlie locked up?” 

“No, I fed her half of the wine in a baby bottle. It was adorable. I have pictures.” Lydia retorted, smiling. “Yes, she’s fine.” She altered her request for information to say that she needed two different apartments in the building, and space wasn’t an issue for either one. She sent the request and turned to face Derek. “They’ll both have a place from May through October.” 

“Good.” Derek murmured, dropping down onto his knees. He placed himself between her legs, leaning his arms gently on her thighs, his fingers lightly tripping across her skin. “I hope this works for them.”

“So do I. Scott needs time to recover, and Stiles needs to see that he’s fine.” Lydia frowned, realizing her slip-up. “Whatever, I’m not correcting myself.” 

“He threatened Cora when she slipped up.” Derek mentioned, sighing. “She snapped right back, but I don’t think he took her words to heart.” He twined their fingers together, lifting her hand and kissing her palm. “I’m assuming he thinks it’ll get easier for us to call him Mitch with time, and that Stiles will disappear permanently. Cora thinks he’s insane.”

“He might be.” Lydia murmured. “It isn’t the most sane thing to be able to just shoot someone and move on. And if it hadn’t been Melissa, he would have been fine.” 

Derek dropped his head to rest against Lydia’s chest, pressing his ear to her heart and sighing. “We’ll just… need to continue to work with him on this. I don’t think he’s ever going to be the same after this, but maybe one day, we can get him to a close approximation of it.”

Lydia ran her fingers through Derek’s hair. “Are you all right?” She glanced down at him. “It seems like you had a rough day.” 

“I just need to be close to you.” Derek said softly. “Watching what Mitch is going through, what Scott is going through… Remembering when I first started… I keep thinking about how easily I could have fucked up my first real job. And I keep putting myself in their places. I keep imagining myself pulling the trigger on… on you, or Mom. Or Laura, or Cora. Peter. I keep imagining how I’d feel to come home and find out that my lover, or my mother are dead, and I honestly don’t know how either of them are still upright and thriving right now.”

“They’re strong. That’s why Mitch was recommended to you guys in the first place, and why I suggested bringing Scott in.” Lydia nodded. “They’re both hurting. This is probably only going to get resolved by them coming face to face, but that’s if they want to. If they don’t, then they’ll just have to get well on their own, and that’s going to take longer. But it’s not impossible.” 

Derek nodded, pulling back a little bit to peer up at her. He exhaled, reaching a hand up to gently touch her face, lifting his head to kiss her. “I love you.” He murmured. “I need you to know that. I’m so glad you’re at my side, and I’m at yours.”

“I love you, too.” Lydia smiled. She moved, standing up. “Is dinner something we can reheat?” 

Derek shifted back and stood up as well. “It’ll keep.” He grinned at her, tugging her forward for another kiss.


	22. Chapter 22

Mitch raked his fingers through his green hair and studied his reflection. He had grown a beard and let his hair grow out, over the last few months. It wasn’t for any particular reason, he just hadn’t felt like keeping up with it. It came in handy now, as he leaned forward and put blue contacts in his eyes, then added a pair of glasses that were different from the ones he had worn in Cincinnati. He wasn’t sure he looked different enough, but it was at least a start. The t-shirts and jeans, and the suits from the tailor went into the back of the closet. He pulled on a pair of track pants and a plain white polo, adding a leather jacket to it. The weather was getting too warm for the coat, but he wasn’t sure what else to do and he didn’t have time to ask Lydia for fashion advice. Scott was supposed to be arriving today, and Mitch felt an overwhelming need to see him in person, even though he couldn’t say anything to him. He pulled a baseball cap on, tugging the brim down toward his eyes, just to make it even less likely for Scott to recognize him. He walked out of his apartment and down the hall to the elevator, taking it to the lobby as he checked his watch. The car from the airport would be arriving any second now. Mitch walked over to the bank of mailboxes and opened his, just as one of the lobby doors was opened. 

Scott peered around the lobby as he entered the building, the straps of a backpack peeking over his shoulders. One duffel bag hung off his side, and another was clenched tightly in the opposite hand. His eyes scoped the lobby uncertainly, briefly stopping each time he happened to see someone standing in his line of sight. He blinked a little when he caught a flash of green hair, but shook his head and moved toward the mailbox that happened to have his name on it. Lifting up on the latch, he opened it and grabbed the keys that were inside, peering at the apartment number on the small label at the top before he shut the mailbox once more and headed for the elevator. He felt exhausted, and he’d only just arrived - but he was hoping Baltimore would be good for him. He just had to give it some time. The sight of the city when he’d landed at the airport had been overwhelming - but he’d felt hopeful all the same.

Mitch waited until the elevator doors closed before he sent a text to Derek and Lydia. ‘He’s here.’ He got into the second elevator and took it up to the floor below his and Scott’s, walking down the hall and taking the stairs up at a leisurely pace. He wasn’t trying to catch him, just give Scott enough time to get into his apartment before Mitch went back to his own. No matter how tempted he might be to knock and apologize, he wasn’t going to risk it. If he wanted to hear and see Scott, he would do it through the surveillance he had set up in his apartment. 

‘How’s he looking?’ Derek texted back.

“Amazing.” Mitch muttered. He grimaced at himself and shook his head, tossing the baseball cap aside as soon as he was back in his apartment. ‘He looks kind of tired, but it was a long flight, wasn’t it?’ 

‘It was. He had some missions to drop off beforehand, and then got straight on the plane the minute he got back.’

‘Anything out this way that I can work on?’ Mitch asked, flopping down on his couch. 

‘Your job is to keep an eye on Scott.’ Lydia replied. ‘So that’s what you’re doing.’ 

‘But we’ll take a look and see what’s around. We’ll get back to you.’ Derek added.

Mitch smiled to himself, certain that Derek and Lydia were about to get into an argument. He set his phone aside and went into the second bedroom, where he put on headphones and sat at a desk to listen to noises in Scott’s apartment as he switched on the monitors in front of him. 

Scott stood in the center of the apartment, his bags piled up in the corner. He took a deep breath, staring around the space like he couldn’t begin to think of what to do with it. Eventually, he sat down on the floor and slumped backward until he was stretched out, his head resting on his arms. 

Mitch rested his chin on his fist, studying the living room monitor. Lydia had furnished the place, he knew, because he had been there to let the movers bring things in. He had been the one to arrange everything in a way that gave him the best vantage points. “The least you could do is sit on the fucking couch.” He muttered, then felt guilty. He had killed Scott’s mother. Scott could sit wherever he damn well pleased. 

At a loss for what to do, Scott stayed on the floor for a long while. His chest hitched, and then hitched again, and suddenly his hands were over his eyes as he shook, trying in vain to force back the sudden onslaught of tears. He couldn’t even tell if they were miserable, heartbroken tears for everything and everyone he’d lost, and everything he’d been through, or if the tears were cries of relief for getting away from Beacon Hills, for extracting himself, with Lydia and Derek’s help, to somewhere so far removed from a town that kept taking and taking from him.

“Shit.” Mitch muttered, leaning back in his chair. He went back into the living room and sent a text from his phone, glancing at his watch. In about twenty minutes, Scott would get a food delivery and he’d probably catch on that he was being watched, but the fridge wasn’t as fully-stocked as Mitch had hoped to get it. He had run out of time, waiting on equipment. 

Sure enough, twenty minutes later, Scott received a knock on the door, sitting up and composing himself long enough to answer the door. He wiped at his eyes and shook his head, exhaling softly. He answered, and not long after, he was staring at his counter and his refrigerator in bewildered gratitude. He assumed that Lydia must have called in a favor, and reminded himself to send her thanks as he started putting the groceries away.

Mitch smiled to himself as Scott started putting groceries away. He laced his fingers together behind his head. Knowing what he did about werewolves and doing all the research he could, he was certain that Scott wasn’t one. He would have heard Mitch through the walls and this would already be over. He had gotten to the point where he could recognize werewolves in public, and he did his best to give them respect and stay out of their way. He started to fidget, then pushed his chair back and wandered around his apartment. He could still hear audio from Scott’s apartment, so watching him closely wasn’t necessary. 

The alert on his phone went off, and a message from Cora appeared on the screen. ‘How’s your new place?’

‘Sparse.’ Mitch’s lips twitched. ‘Scott’s here. I had groceries sent to him. I’m trying to stay off the radar here, but watching him do nothing already sucks.’ 

‘I’m sure it’ll change up soon. Derek said that Lydia’s planning to keep him occupied with stuff. So… you’ll definitely be getting out of that apartment at some point. At least a few times.’

Mitch took a picture of himself and sent it to Cora. ‘Think I look different enough?’

There wasn’t a response for several minutes, but when one came, it likely wasn’t what Mitch had expected. ‘I wanna get you under me.’ Another message followed immediately after. ‘To tattoo you, I mean. You look hot. Tattoos will go with that look really well. You’re making my fingers twitch.’

‘If Derek okays it, you can give me one.’ Mitch agreed. ‘Somewhere I can cover it up easily.’ 

‘I’ll consult him, but I have to let you know that my first reaction was to ask if I could tattoo your ass. It covers up easily.’ Cora snorted to herself.

‘Stay away from my ass.’ Mitch laughed to himself and wandered back into the second bedroom to see what Scott was up to, since he didn’t hear anything. He had expected more talking to himself, maybe, since that’s what Mitch was prone to. 

Scott had torn into a bag of chips that he’d found amidst the groceries that had been delivered, and was finally sitting on the couch, diving into the bag every so often as he alternated his attention between the tv and his phone. He still didn’t look happy, but he looked less tense, much more relaxed.

Mitch sat back down, transfixed. He knew, from a previous experience, that watching someone twenty-four hours a day could be boring. But it was more torture than he had expected, since he couldn’t just go to Scott’s apartment and say anything. He thought back on the three years that he and Scott had avoided each other at all costs, and how one night had completely changed his opinion. He still missed Jackson and Allison sometimes, too. But he had a few people who kept him updated on how they were doing, so he knew they were okay, and still together. 

Scott had, for the most part, found himself relaxing the longer he sank back into his couch, the longer he waited for Lydia’s first job for him to come through. He flipped through apps on his phone out of sheer boredom, and then faltered with his thumb over the contacts button before he pressed it. He hadn’t been able to bear deleting his mother’s name and number after what had happened. He knew that the longer the number went without use, the sooner it likely was that it would be surrendered and given to another person. It felt silly, hanging onto her number. There were many more things that he had of her, that he’d always be able to cherish and remember her by. But the number - her name in the phone - made him feel like he could still just... press the button and hear her voice on the other end of the line. He smiled sadly at her contact picture and took a deep breath. Maybe one day, he’d be able to delete her number, but until then, he refused to let go.

Lydia glanced at her watch and sent a text to Scott. ‘Go to the Peabody Library.’ She laughed to herself. She felt bad that she didn’t actually have anything important for him to do, but she wanted him to get out of the apartment and see amazing things in the city. She knew that Mitch would follow him, so that would give both men a chance to distract themselves from their grief.

‘Okay.’ Scott replied immediately, sitting straight up. ‘Is there something happening there?’

Lydia was going to say no, but she got an idea and laughed softly to herself. ‘Yes. I want you to leave a message in one of the books. Write your assumed name down on a piece of paper and tell whoever finds the note something that you would want someone else to say to you.’

Scott furrowed his brows at his phone in confusion. ‘Uh… okay. I kinda thought there was maybe someone you wanted me to tail or something, but… sure. Yeah, I can do that.’

Lydia called Scott. “I appreciate that you want to do that.” She began. “But you haven’t been trained well enough for it. What would you do if someone caught you following them?” 

Scott grimaced. “Probably make a run for it, honestly.” He mumbled. “And that’s if they don’t catch me first.”

“And that’s why you’re not ready.” Lydia bit her lip, but she hadn’t gotten where she was by holding back. “Stiles was trained on how to use a weapon, to the point that he could hit a target every time. We gave him the job of taking care of your father, and despite his training, despite everything we taught him, something still went wrong and we’ve all suffered for it. I’ll work with you if you really feel it’s necessary, but I don’t see what’s wrong with you being a courier.” 

Scott fell silent, something raw and stinging opening up inside him when Lydia said Stiles’ name. He didn’t want to think about how much had gone wrong. “Fine with me.” He mumbled. “I didn’t really… I don’t really want to be…” He swallowed and tried again. “I’ll stay a courier. I don’t care.”

Lydia felt guilty all over again. “If you want the training, if you want to do what Stiles was doing, I can arrange that. He recommended Jackson and Allison before... before.” She couldn’t explain to Scott that Stiles was still alive, despite what Stiles himself wanted the world to believe, because she had no doubt that he would be angry enough to kill her for betraying him. Instead of being scared, she felt proud of him for it. 

“No.” Scott blurted, exhaling. “I don’t want to do what he did. I don’t want to do anything like that. Ever. Don’t even mention guns to me. I want nothing to do with them. I’m fine with being a courier. I’m fine with being a vet. I wasn’t thinking before, you know me, I just blurt shit out.” He paused. “If I ever sound like I maybe might consider doing this, talk me out of it. Remind me of what happened. Of who I lost.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever forget.” Lydia murmured. “But okay.” She sighed. “Scott...” She bit her lip, telling herself once again not to compromise Stiles, or Mitch, or whatever he was going by. She was pretty sure he had stopped using his Kevin alias when he left Ohio. “I know this seems like a weird mission to go on, but you’re making contact with another operative, and it’s important to me that the two of you bond, because it’ll be useful later.” 

Scott was silent for a moment, and then sighed. “If you say so. If it’s important to you, then I’ll do what I can.”

“Good. You don’t have to go right now, it’s kind of late in the afternoon. Tomorrow, though. They open at ten.” Lydia murmured. “I want you to go back there in two days, also. Get the response to your message and keep communicating with the other operative. I also have plenty for you to do. Starting next week, you’ll have a job in a pet store as a cover, and you’ll still be doing your online courses for college. I want you to rest, but I don’t want you to lay around for the next few months. Do you want me to send Morrell out there, or maybe one of her associates?” 

Scott hesitated, then said, “One of her associates. I know she’s - I know you guys vouch for her, but she just… unsettles me.”

“I know who I’ll request.” Lydia murmured. “It looks like I’ll be setting up another apartment in your building. They should be paying me.” 

Scott smiled crookedly, huffing out a tiny laugh. “Send them a bill.” He quipped.

Lydia smiled in relief at Scott’s good mood. “I might.” She murmured. “I’m emailing you with a schedule to follow, as soon as I get your therapist on a plane.” She hung up and dialed another number on her contact list. “How do you feel about going to Baltimore for a few months?” She smiled slowly. 

***

Mitch stayed half a block behind Scott, the next morning. He had an email waiting for him from Lydia when he woke up, telling him that whether he liked it or not, he now had therapy sessions twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He wondered if that meant that Scott had Mondays and Wednesdays. He would find out soon enough. 

Scott looked around as he walked down the street, his eyes flitting from one thing to another. Eventually, he arrived in front of the Peabody Library and tilted his head back to stare - and stare, and stare. “Christ.” He breathed out, blinking in amazement, before taking a faltering step toward the entrance. Once he was inside, he stared at the rows and rows of books stretching from the atrium. “Holy shit.” He blurted.

Mitch was thinking the exact same thing as he glanced around, but he quickly sat down at a table and kept his eyes averted, not wanting Scott to turn around and see him. His fingers flexed as he glanced down at his hands, reminding himself that they had held the gun that killed Melissa and that if the situation was reversed, he wasn’t so sure he would be able to forgive Scott for killing John - and they had so few years together to bond, they were more like awkward friends than a father and son. He knew he was supposed to respond to whatever the hell Scott was going to leave as a message for him, but he wasn’t sure what the purpose of this was. He couldn’t tell his former lover that he was living on the same floor of their apartment building. Mitch couldn’t face Scott at all. 

Scott felt a soft, genuine smile crawl onto his face as he trailed his fingers over the shelves on the first floor, stopping each time his eyes caught a familiar title. His fingers stroked down spines, and occasionally, he tugged a book out of its spot to leaf through it, opening to the middle and reading paragraphs he remembered and loved for the sheer pleasure of it. He stopped when he remembered the reason he was there - he needed to leave a message. He started walking once again, grinning widely once he found the book he wanted, and then took it to one of the study tables strewn around the library. Hoping he wouldn’t get busted, he pulled out a pen, thinking for a long moment about what he wanted to write before his thoughts, as always, turned toward Stiles. He thought about his lover - how angry he still was with him, how grief-stricken he was at the thought that Scott no longer had his mother because of Stiles, how much he missed Stiles and wished for things that didn’t matter anymore in the long run, because his lover was gone, too. Insane thoughts plagued him about what he could have done differently, what he’d done wrong to deserve this outcome, even though logic dictated differently. He forced himself to look down at the book and the pen and think about what he would’ve wanted to hear from someone else, as Lydia had told him to do, and the words flowed across the page. When Scott looked, it was shorter than he’d thought it would be, but he couldn’t help smiling when he saw it. He shut the book and replaced it.

Mitch sent a text to Derek. ‘Tell your girl to haul Scott in for more training. He just wrote a note on the pages of the book he chose.’

‘I’ll look into it. Quit tattling and go read. Tattler.’ Derek replied.

‘Cocksucker.’ Mitch replied, pocketing his phone and smiling to himself. He took the long way around the shelf, picking up the book to read the message. _’You’re perfect, inside and out. Everything will be okay. I promise.’_ Mitch blinked, rereading the words a few times before he used his left hand to scrawl across an index card. ‘Stick to these from now on, pal. Safer this way.’ He thought for a minute, then added, ‘You’ll be okay, too. You have a lot of people taking care of you.’ He tucked the index card into the book and put it back, walking quickly to prevent himself from losing Scott - irony - and wondered if Scott knew exactly who he was communicating with. 

Scott stuffed both hands in his jeans, standing still and breathing in the smell of the library. He smiled a little and started moving, exhaling slowly, like a ten pound weight had come off of his chest.

Mitch watched Scott, licking his lower lip and thinking. He hurried back to the book and flipped it open to the index card, writing down the number for his Baltimore cell phone. It was a risk, but it was one he felt the need to take. At least this way, he could talk to Scott more frequently than once a day. He walked back slowly, not wanting to get too close. Scott didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave, and that was okay with Mitch. He didn’t have anywhere he needed to be. 

Scott didn't quite want to go home yet, and though he could probably get lost in the library and willingly stay lost for days, he had a feeling that Lydia herself would come hunt him down. So he took a final inhale of the scent of the books, and then made his way out of the library and into the street. He started walking casually, peering up at the massive monument in the center of the road curiously as he passed before another building - the art museum - caught his eye and he veered toward it. 

“What are you doing?” Mitch muttered, but his lips quirked up at the corners. He felt disconnected from Scott more than ever and realized that the three years they had spent avoiding one another at all costs had only guaranteed that he really didn't know the other man at all. One night of sex hadn’t magically changed that. The thought was enough to make him stop mid-stride, and he reached for his phone, considering calling Derek to demand a new assignment. This had barely begun and it was pure hell. 

Scott stopped in front of the museum, and turned, grinning. He faltered when he remembered that there was no one there to share in this with him - he'd barely had friends in high school beyond Isaac, and he'd lost touch with the other man through the years. And he'd had Stiles - but his stubbornness and stupidity had kept him from really knowing the other man for the three years that they'd lived in the same house until Scott had finally realized that he'd been attracted to him. Now, he had Lydia, and Derek. The Hales were all perfectly nice - well, maybe not Peter - but they weren't who Scott wanted to be there in Baltimore with him. He'd lost two of them, and couldn't bear to look the third in the eye, so much so that he'd fled his hometown to avoid the grieving man. He sighed, his shoulders slumping a little, and turned to look at the building once more before deciding he wasn't really in the mood for art, after all, and took a seat on the front steps to gather himself. He missed Stiles. He hated that he missed Stiles, after what had happened, but the ache in his chest every time he thought of John’s son was proof enough that his feelings hadn't just gone away. 

Mitch had been trying, albeit half-heartedly, to compartmentalize and associate certain less favorable aspects of himself as belonging to Stiles, who was deceased. At least, he was on paper. But Mitch hadn’t really taken the time to develop an idea of who he was, as a separate person. He leaned against a tree, glancing at Scott as he considered a few possibilities. Mitch had come into this world as someone who wouldn't pull the trigger on an innocent. He wouldn't give up so easily, either. He looked down at his phone, then put it away. He didn’t have anything to do, except for monitoring Scott. He assumed that this wasn't in an effort to assassinate the would-be veterinarian, but if the order did come from Derek, Mitch would refuse. In the meantime, he was going to do so much self-reflection that his therapist might weep with joy. 

Scott threaded his fingers together, lost in thought. Eventually, he heaved his way back to his feet again, and then looked at his cell phone hesitantly before pulling up a search. After a moment, he nodded. It would be a half hour walk from the art museum to the closest movie theater he could find - which also happened to be near the aquarium and the bay - but if he requested Lyft, he'd make it much sooner - and wouldn't get as lost. He sent the request, and then looked around, squinting when he thought he saw a head of green hair, then blinked and shrugged to himself. 

Mitch tilted his head back to avoid being recognized when he saw Scott glancing at him. His stomach growled and he frowned. Whatever the other operative had been doing on his phone, it wasn't something he could get details on unless he found a way to get closer, while somehow not letting Scott see him. “Sure, let me just become invisible.” He muttered. “Solve all my problems.” He sat on the sidewalk and leaned forward to stretch his legs, thinking of a solution. Scott seemed to be waiting for something, too. He spotted a large group of tourists getting off of a bus and heading toward the stairs. Mitch smiled and got to his feet, falling in with them and intentionally bumping into Scott as he kept his face turned away. He took Scott’s phone, eyeing the screen before he coughed out an apology in German, tossing the phone back to him and hurrying to the front of the group. His good mood was gone, and he felt a little frantic as he doubled back. He couldn't just get into the cab with Scott when it arrived. He might not have a choice but to keep up on foot. 

The Lyft pulled up and Scott bent down to peer into the window and smile at the driver. “Hi! Um, the Landmark Theater?”

The driver squinted at him. “Sure, but for the sake of honesty, you do know there's one closer, right? About twenty minutes walking, but it's a straight-shot if you just follow the street out there.” He pointed out the window to the road Scott had crossed in order to get to the museum from the library. 

Scott’s expression cleared. “Oh! Okay, in that case, uh… sorry to waste your time?”

The driver grunted, but waved his hand dismissively as he pulled back into traffic and drove off. 

Scott blinked. “Well, okay.” He muttered, shaking his head before he jogged down the steps and back onto the sidewalk.

Mitch looked confused, but he shrugged and followed Scott again. He was going to need a different hair color; he was almost certain Scott was catching on to who he was, or at least getting a vague idea. He wondered if he could pass as his own twin, then groaned. Having nothing to do all day shouldn’t have given him the idea to watch daytime television. 

Scott stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging to himself as he walked down the road. He pulled his phone out a moment later, checking the time - the driver had told him how long he’d be walking, but he hadn’t said what road he was looking for. “I just want to see a damn movie.” He muttered.

Mitch cleared his throat, then figured he was already in as much of a mess as he could be in, with everything. It was unprecedented, but he lived by his own rules, anyway. Instead of following Scott, he caught up to him. “Hello.” He smiled widely, using the same accent he had when he bumped into Scott a few minutes earlier. “You travel?” He gestured with his index and middle fingers, like a person walking. 

Scott blinked, looking a little startled, but gave the green-haired man a hesitant, friendly smile. “Hi. Uh… Yes? Yeah. I’m, uh - trying to find a movie theater right now. I was - well, walking.” He nodded, looking sheepish.

“This.” Mitch pointed in the direction of the theater. “No... ah, friends? Girls?” 

Scott seemed to inherently understand, despite the well-spoken, if broken English. “No, uh…” He huffed a small, self-deprecating laugh. “No, I’m by myself. Single. Alone.”

Mitch didn’t see a need to comment on Scott’s recitation of synonyms. He was mostly quiet, but he offered cheerful greetings to everyone they passed, playing the part of a naive tourist. He clapped his hands together twice when they reached the movie theater, then patted Scott’s back and stepped away. It was over the top and corny, but also the complete opposite sort of behavior that Stiles would have exhibited. 

Scott smiled crookedly at him, hesitating a little bit before he said, “Would you… like to join me, maybe? I mean - if you want to? You don’t have to.”

Mitch pretended to need a minute to think about it, then agreed and gestured for Scott to go ahead of him. He was glad that he had decided to do this, but couldn’t help feeling disappointed in Scott for not realizing who had been walking with him for the past ten minutes. It was a strange blend of emotions and he rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to convince himself to drop it. 

Scott folded his arms behind his back, walking along silently. He wasn’t sure what it was about the other man that had him relaxing and feeling calmer. The stranger’s eyes felt warm, and familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.

Mitch glanced at Scott, then smiled faintly and turned to the ticket clerk. “ _Zwei_.” He wrinkled his forehead, feigning frustration. “No?” He held up two fingers, giving the clerk a hopeful smile. 

The clerk looked a little uncertain. “Uh. Two… tickets?” He asked hesitantly.

Scott huffed out a soft laugh. “Yeah, two tickets, please.”

The clerk’s expression cleared, and he smiled at them both. “Sure thing,” he agreed. He tapped at his screen a few times, and handed them two tickets a moment later. “Fifteen dollars, please.”

Mitch deliberately got too much money out of his wallet and held it out to the clerk. He was running through any German names he knew, discarding ones that didn’t sound like they would belong to someone his age as he tried to figure out what he would tell Scott, if he was asked for his name. 

The clerk started to take the money, a gleam in his eyes.

Scott’s hand whipped out and caught the clerk by the wrist. “How about you give us a sec, yeah?” He smiled tightly, and then turned to the man standing beside him, his face going gentle. “Here,” he reached for the bills and then carefully showed him which were which, before tucking the ones that weren’t needed back into the tourist’s wallet. He handed the remainder to the clerk, frowning in disapproval as he grabbed the tickets.

Mitch gave Scott a grateful smile and started to put his wallet back into his pocket, but pointed to the concession counter. “You eat, yes?” He asked. “Drink?” 

Scott smiled back a little and nodded. “Sure, but - let me take care of this. You got the tickets.” He reached for his own wallet, nodding toward the other man as they approached the counter. “What would you like?”

Mitch pointed at the popcorn, gesturing with his hands to indicate a small bag. He pointed toward the bottled sodas, then stepped back and clasped his hands together in front of him. 

Scott laughed softly and nodded. “Okay. Give me a moment.” He turned toward the girl behind the counter and ordered, and a little bit later, walked back toward his companion and handed him both the popcorn and the bottled soda.

Mitch knew he was going to have to report in at some point, and he decided that explaining any of this would take too long. When he had to talk about what Scott had done that day, he planned to just mention that he saw a movie. Hopefully, that would be the end of it. 

“Ready to go in?” Scott asked him, smiling.

Mitch gave Scott a confused smile in return, then glanced at the doors to the theater and started walking, glancing over his shoulder at the other man. 

Scott grimaced to himself, wishing he'd picked a language other than Spanish, which he was already fluent in, to learn in high school. The language barrier wouldn't feel quite so broad if he could speak a little German beyond inappropriate curse words and ‘please and thank you’. He followed the other man inside. 

Mitch turned toward Scott, feeling sick to his stomach. He was having more trouble than he wanted to admit to, separating who he wanted to be from who he used to be. Five months ago, this would have been a normal date for the two of them. His hair would have been brown and he wouldn’t have a need to wear glasses to disguise himself like he was Clark Kent. He would have had so much more to say, so much more he _could_ say. Instead, he was forced to sit in relative silence beside someone he really wanted to kiss or apologize to, and he could do nothing. He wondered what kind of person he was, that the realization that he was in a hell of his own making was somehow a comfort. 

Scott looked up at him curiously, taking his own seat inside the theater. “Are you alright?” He asked, frowning a little.

Mitch sat down and nodded. “ _Ja_. Today is something.” He smiled hesitantly. “And you?” 

Scott was silent for a moment, thinking, and then he smiled a little. “I think I’m okay. Could be better, but… I’m okay.”


	23. Chapter 23

Mitch peered out through the view hole in his door when he heard a knock, on Tuesday. He groaned at the sight of the therapist they had sent. He was vaguely familiar with her and trusted her less than he trusted Morrell, which said a lot. “I’m not home!” He called out, hoping she would go away. 

“Nice try.” The blonde laughed, wrenching the door open and giving Mitch an unimpressed look. “Unfortunately for you, I’m stronger than I look. No, I’m not a werewolf, before you even ask. But I’m about to get at least one of them on the phone for a conference call. Why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfortable while I call Derek?” 

“Make yourself comfortable.” Mitch mocked, his shoulders slumping as he sat back down on his couch. “This is my apartment. I live here. I’d damned well better be comfortable.” 

“I’m sorry, I must not have been informed that you went through old man training since I saw you last.” Buffy scoffed. She called Derek, putting her phone on speaker and sitting on the other side of the couch. 

“I’m here.” Derek answered. “Hi, Summers, Mitch.”

“Asshole.” Mitch greeted Derek gruffly, then frowned. “Is this my intervention?” 

“No, nothing like that.” Buffy shook her head. “But I thought it might help you to have someone with you when you talk to me, even if they can’t physically be here. I just also expected this to be happening in my office.” 

“I’m more than willing to sit in on this. We could do a video chat, if that’s easier?” Derek suggested. “I don’t know if you’d rather be in your office or not, but… well, Mitch’s apartment seems easiest, right?” He tried not to sound sulky at the other man’s greeting, given that he knew he deserved a lot of his ire.

“Yeah, set it up.” Mitch muttered, watching as the therapist rearranged things on the coffee table and propped her phone up against them. “You do this a lot?” 

“It helps to know what my best angles are.” Buffy smiled. “The last thing I want is to give someone a nice view up my nose.” 

Derek snorted out a laugh. “I have several co-workers and a younger sister that would tell you outright that you don’t have a wrong angle, Summers.” He told her, sounding amused.

“Thank you, but I have a sister and a few friends who would say otherwise.” Buffy turned toward Mitch. “Anyway. How have you been?” 

“Busy? I get up, I monitor Scott, I sleep. Repeat.” Mitch shrugged. 

Derek peered out at him through the screen. “And… do you need a break?” He asked carefully. “It’s not taking its toll on you or anything? I know it’s gotta be difficult.” He cleared his throat guiltily. “It’s gotta be rough being around him, even just a little.”

Mitch faltered. “Yeah, it is.” He licked his lips, frowning. “I’m glad he’s not wallowing, but maybe I’m starting to. I know what’s healthy and what’s not, and it’s been driving me nuts to not just go down the hall and tell him I’m sorry. For everything. Instead, I’m following him from a distance and trying to forget everything from December. And before it.” He didn’t see any reason to mention that he had sat right beside Scott and had even spoken to him. “I know you met with him yesterday.” He told the woman at the other end of the couch. “In your apartment, where I don’t have surveillance.” 

“That’s right, I did. And you don’t.” Buffy nodded, smiling faintly. “Does it bother you?” 

“No.” Mitch snorted. “Are you kidding? I got time to myself for an hour.” 

“Time to yourself is good.” Derek agreed, furrowing his brows together, studying Mitch with warm eyes. “Are you willing to stay on?” He asked. “Is it too much?”

“I could use a break.” Mitch said carefully. “I know what I’m trained for, and it’s not to play babysitter to someone who doesn’t really need it. There are a lot of douchebags that shouldn’t be allowed to do whatever it is they’re doing. Find me one. Look, thinking about what happened with Melissa makes me want to throw up.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “But if she’s the last person that I put a bullet into, then... that’s going to be all I can think about. That with one stupid move, I ruined at least four lives. Mine, my dad’s, Melissa’s and Scott’s. If I can get the hell back out there and kill someone who actually deserves it, that would be a better use of my time.” 

Derek was silent for a long moment, before his eyes shifted toward Buffy. “What do you think?” He asked softly. “I can think of some things for him to do, and I’ve gotta be honest… I would rather see him out in the field instead of getting stuck in an apartment, doing the same thing every day.”

“I think I understand what it’s like to feel like you have a calling that you’re missing out on.” Buffy mused. “But you should keep this place and come back to it, when you can. There are a few other people starting training soon, aren’t there? Maybe this is the best place for them to rotate through, taking shifts to monitor Scott while Mitch is busy?” She glanced at Mitch for confirmation, keeping her expression carefully neutral. Scott’s description, the day before, about his green-haired German friend made sense, and she would have been worried about his observation skills if it wasn’t for the fact that he had probably used reverse psychology on himself, in a way. Mitch looked enough like Stiles that they could have been twins instead of the same person. The difference in muscle tone, hair length and color, and the glasses he had chosen were just enough of an alteration that Scott had probably looked right at the man and decided that his mind was playing tricks on him, and that he was seeing Stiles where Stiles couldn’t have existed. 

“Are you talking about Ally and Jax?” Mitch demanded. “Did that finally happen?” 

“I’m not going to discuss that with you.” Buffy said evenly. 

Derek hummed in agreement. “I think that’s a good idea, Summers.” He murmured.   
“Although I’m sure some of them will complain about what they’ll see as glorified baby-sitting. Lydia’s basically done all of the business for this apartment building in the last few months, and they’ve given her a monthly stipend in gratitude. They’d probably be thrilled to have the newbies living here, too.” He looked at Mitch. “I’ll take a look at some files and I’ll get back to you with your assignment.” He paused. “Was there anything that you wanted to say to Scott? Before you leave, I mean?”

“How would I do that?” Mitch retorted. “He thinks Stiles is dead, and for all intents and purposes, that’s not exactly a lie.” 

“You do realize that your motivation for redeeming yourself doesn’t hold if you’re going to insist that you want to completely ignore the first eighteen years of your life, right?” Buffy pointed out. “You could go talk to him, let him know you’re actually alive and that you just wanted him to know that?” 

Mitch considered that for a long moment, his lips pursed. He wasn’t sure what the right answer was, but he knew he was supposed to give it, if he had any hope of getting everyone off his back. 

Derek held his hands up. “If you’d rather not do it in person, then nothing is stopping you from having a message delivered, or writing it down in a letter. Or not sending anything at all.” He said gently. “It’s up to you. I just wanted to know if it was something you’d want to do.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Mitch nodded. “Okay, I know this is supposed to take an hour, but I wanna cut this short and go pack what I’ll need while you get details together and send me information.” He told Derek. “Thanks.” 

Derek inclined his head. “It’s the least I can do.” He murmured. 

Buffy frowned at that. “Derek, call me back when you’ve got everything set up for Mitch.” She demanded, then hung up and got to her feet. “I’ll leave you to it.” She told the assassin, nodding to him. “You’d better figure out how to say goodbye in German, if you don’t already know.” She smiled. “Scott had a lot to say about his tourist friend. I won’t say a word to Derek or Lydia. They don’t need to know.” She eyed the broken doorknob warily, then shrugged to herself. “Maintenance can fix that.” She muttered. “Bye.” 

Mitch shook his head as he smiled. He adjusted his glasses on his nose and walked down the hall to Scott’s apartment, knocking lightly. 

Scott opened the door, looking confused and then surprised. He smiled. “Hi. What’s up?”

“Hello.” Mitch began softly. “I am leaving. I wanted to say goodbye.” He bit down on his tongue when he got the urge to just be honest. He knew it wouldn’t do any good, but the idea of not saying goodbye at all, once again, made him irritated. 

Scott’s face fell a little. “Oh.” He said softly, furrowing his brows. “You - uh, you have to go back home?”

Mitch nodded. “It was good to meet you.” He held a hand out to Scott. 

Scott smiled weakly, reaching out to take the other man’s hand. “It was nice meeting you, too.” He murmured. He couldn’t - wouldn’t, really refused - to examine why he felt so distraught about this. “I, uh. I hope you have a safe trip back.”

“Thank you.” Mitch nodded again and stepped back, lifting a hand to wave at Scott before he went back down the hall.

Scott stared after him, waving back a little before he lowered his hand and sighed, turning to step back into his apartment. He made his way back to his couch, dropping down and leaning back.

Mitch glanced at the monitors one last time before he switched them off and started packing his things. He cut his hair and shaved, then got into the shower to wash the green color out. The glasses went into their case, then right into his suitcase. He worked on clearing the apartment to remove any trace he had ever been there, once his suitcase was sitting near the door and everything was in it. The furniture and electronics would stay for the next person or people who took over for him. He didn’t know where he was going and he didn’t really care. 

Derek called a moment later. “Feel like going international?” He asked casually.

“Fuck yes.” Mitch smiled. “Oh, but, uh. Not Germany. Unless that’s exactly where you want me to go, and then that’s fine.” 

Derek snorted. “It’s up to you, but I’ve got several case files that I’m sending in a zip file your way. They’re all international. You can take your pick.” A smile was visible in his voice. “I hear Malta is pretty nice this time of year.”

“Yeah? Who’s there, some drug kingpin? A human trafficker?” Mitch held the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he got his laptop back out of his suitcase and turned it on. 

“How about both?” Derek suggested. “Human trafficker decided to dip his feet into the other side of the pool. Managed to oust the former kingpin and take over his operation, his house, and his wife. The newbie’s twenty-five, not shy about putting people under his heel, in front of a bus, or in his gun’s crosshairs. He had his people touch base in Michigan, Nevada and Minnesota and it might as well have been a mass exodus for all the kids that have gone missing.”

“So this is long-term, I’m guessing?” Mitch opened the file and started looking for the information Derek was just explaining to him, to see more details. “We’ll need to recover as many of them as we can, which is going to mean needing to get close and figure out who’s involved. Probably means having to let a few slip by, just to see where they end up. But at least if I’m on the front lines of this thing, I can slip trackers past somebody and you can do the monitoring on your end.” 

“That’s what I was hoping for.” Derek replied, nodding. “Alright. I’ll send you the information and get your flight set up for you. We’ll work out your living arrangements, too.” He cleared his throat. “Now, uh… if you’ll excuse me, I need to call Summers and see how much trouble I’m in with her.”

Mitch laughed. “Okay. I’ve already packed, so I’ll leave the keys in the mailbox and get to the airport.” He hung up and picked up his suitcase, carrying it down the hall instead of wheeling it to the elevator. He had to pass Scott’s apartment on the way and didn’t want the noise to alert Scott or cause them to come face to face when he wasn’t disguised. 

Scott’s head lifted from inside his apartment when he heard the door slam down the hall. Any footsteps he might have heard were muffled by the carpet, but he still strained to hear something, anything, anyway. He exhaled slowly, and then put his head down with a sigh. After a moment, he jumped up and wandered toward the door, poking his head out long enough to catch sight of brown hair and a broad back stepping into the elevator with a suitcase in hand. He frowned a little, looking back down the opposite side of the hall, and then looked back toward the elevator, wondering if his German friend had left right after he’d talked to Scott. He licked his lips and sighed in disappointment before shaking his head and shutting the door behind him.

Mitch sighed in relief as he got into the elevator. He had heard the door open behind him as he walked, and he hadn’t dared to turn around. He only had to make it through airport security and he would be able to relax until he got to Nevada, which made him realize he needed to text Derek and tell him what his plan was. ‘Get me a flight to Reno.’ He took a deep breath as he hit send, wondering how it was that he was going back after all the years away. He wondered idly if someone else lived in his old house and smiled softly as he thought of the key he still kept on him at all times. It was bound to be useless by now, thirteen years after he had been put into foster care. But he kept it as a reminder of who he had once been. 

‘Sir, yes sir,’ Derek replied, and then sent a picture of the flight he was booking for Mitch. ‘You’ll have one layover in Dallas, and I'm giving you at least a day until your flight from Reno to Malta.’

Mitch grimaced and glanced at the driver, then called Derek and started speaking softly. “I don’t want to go to Malta yet, you understand? It’s better for me to work my way up, make them think I’m trustworthy. I get that you’re a Hale and can probably just show up anywhere and be the CEO, but that’s not how things go for the rest of us.” He knew he was crossing a line, but he was frustrated. 

Derek was silent for a moment, and then cleared his throat. “Right. Uh… sorry. I kinda forget sometimes.” He fell silent again, and then exhaled. “Stay in Reno for as long as you like. And… then give me a call when you’re ready to head out.”

“I’ll keep you updated.” Mitch agreed, feeling like an asshole as he hung up. When he got out of the cab, he reflected on the fact that, as good as they were with the theoretical side of things, most of the ‘desk jockeys’ as he called them didn’t do a lot of field work. He had a feeling that Scott was being groomed to be amongst their ranks, while he handled the dirtier side of the missions. It wasn’t something he was going to be complaining about, despite everything. Everyone had their job to do. He knew that Lydia and Derek could both hit a target or charm their way into any crowded event with upper-class people, while Mitch himself would have trouble getting into such a place. But he had a feeling that Lydia would scream in terror if she had to kill anyone by firing a bullet into their forehead. He also thought that Derek was too kind to be doing half the work that Mitch had already been tasked with. 

‘You still have a layover in Dallas.’ Derek texted him a moment later with a winking emoji. ‘But I’ve got you flying first class. There’ll be a driver there to pick you up at the airport, and a hotel room all set up for you for the first week while we search for semi-permanent lodging.’

‘Thanks.’ Mitch replied, lost in thought as he walked into the airport. He printed his ticket, using his Kevin Brown alias. He wondered how he would explain himself to anyone who did checking up on him. He didn’t really know what went into the bureaucratic side of things, so he wasn’t sure if Kevin Brown would turn out to have lived in Cincinnati for five months while he worked at a secondhand music store, or if his background check would turn up a history of all sorts of unspeakable things. He figured he would get more information when he needed it. The security line went faster than he had anticipated, so he had nothing more to do than sit down and wait for his flight.


End file.
